


I Do

by AhmedA01



Category: 1960s Music Scene RPF, British Singers RPF, Music RPF, Rock Music RPF, The Beatles
Genre: F/M, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 73,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1229851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AhmedA01/pseuds/AhmedA01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day.<i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly my disclaimer: I own nothing. Obviously. Unfortunately.
> 
> And secondly, this story was written about 5 years ago, and originally there were plans to write more beyond what has been posted here. However, considering how many years have passed, I don't think that that is likely.
> 
> I'd really like to continue on though. I really would. I just don't know where else to take it.
> 
> But, who knows? I might change my mind, :-)

**I.**

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like?”

Turning his head to the side, Paul looked up at John as the older boy leaned over slightly, his body propped up with one hand on the sweet-smelling grass as they lay in the shade of the big oak in John’s front yard.

Squinting slightly against the sun, Paul replied with a question of his own, “Thought about what?”

“You know, meeting a woman, getting married, and possibly having kids.”

Puzzled, the younger man threw John an incredulous look.

“Why would I ever think about shit like that?” Paul exclaimed with a laugh. “I’m fucking 16 years old. I think I still have a while before I need to worry about getting hitched.”

With a huff, John threw himself onto his back beside the laughing young man, their fingers just barely brushing against each other as their arms lay by their sides. The sunlight played upon his auburn hair and fair skin as he myopically stared into the bright blue skies above.

“Well, fucking hell,” he grumbled under his breath. “Excuse me for wanting to have a conversation that didn’t revolve around guitars or Brigitte Bardot’s tits for once.”

With a grin, Paul turned his face towards the prone boy. “What are you so bent out of shape about anyway?” he asked, still chuckling.

Shooting the young man a quick glare, John snapped, “I’m not fucking bent out of shape.”

“Bloody hell you’re not!” A smirk dancing about his lips, Paul asked, “Why? Are you planning on making an honest woman out of Miss Powell?”

“Sod off,” John grumbled as he turned his face away, ears turning a delightful shade of pink.

“Come on, John, love,” Paul crowed as he poked his mate in the side. “You can tell me. I won’t tell a soul.”

“Oh, shut up, Paul,” John ground out as he jumped to his feet, intending to stomp back into the house in a temper.

At once repentant, the younger man sat up quickly, his hand reaching out and clasping John’s in an attempt to stop his flight.

“I was just kidding around,” Paul said quickly. Dark wide eyes giving the older boy an imploring look, he pleaded, “You know that.”

“Well, stop,” John pouted, as he shook the younger man’s hand off. “I was being serious.”

With a sigh, Paul paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face as he looked up at the sky. Turning to the older boy he quietly responded, “I have thought about it. Not very often, mind you, but on more than one occasion I have thought about it.”

“And?”

“I’m not exactly sure how I would deal with the whole fucking thing,” Paul replied with a short laugh. “It’s kind of a big deal you know. You have to be responsible and support a family. It’s a bit heavy, innit?”

With a heavy sigh, John say back down again. “I know what you mean,” he replied softly. “Fucking heavy.”

The younger boy looked over, curiosity marring his features. “Well, what are your thoughts?” he asked.

“It frightens me a bit,” John replied honestly. Shooting Paul a rueful smile he continued, “I haven’t exactly had the best role models. Me mum and dad couldn’t even make it work, and the only reason that they were together as long as they were was because he was away all the time. And don’t even get me started on Mimi and George. He was an amazing bloke, but the poor sod was fucking henpecked. I don’t think I could ever live the way that he did.”

Chuckling, Paul rolled over and fixed the older boy with a grin. “I don’t think there is a woman alive who could get you under control, and if there is, that is one woman I’m afraid to meet!”

When his words failed to elicit a response from John, Paul fixed his friend with a concerned stare.

“You okay, Johnny?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m all right,” the older boy replied with a shrug as he lay back down again. “It’s just a lot to think about, you know? I just can’t imagine ever getting married.”

The two boys fell silent, lying side by side on the warm earth, their eyes trained on the skies above as the sun set on the distant horizon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**II.**

“This is a load of bollocks!”

Startled, Paul looked up from his guitar, alarmed at the sudden outburst. Seeing the irritated look on his mate’s face, Paul set his guitar down on the floor with a sigh.

“What is it now?” he groaned with a roll of his eyes. “You’ve been in a right mood all fucking day.”

“Shut up, Paulie,” John bit back, his eyes flashing daggers at the younger man. “I don’t need any of your shit today.”

Hands balled into fists, Paul stood up slowly, his face darkened with anger. With a sense of purpose in every step, the younger man stomped across the room.

Standing over the seated boy, Paul spat, “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been positively foul the minute you showed up!”

John remained silent and continued to strum random chords on his guitar, further fueling Paul’s irritation in the process. With an imperceptible growl, Paul ripped the instrument out of the older boy’s hands. However, the burst of anger that he expected from John never came. Instead he buried his face in his upturned hands and began to sob.

Frightened, Paul took a step backwards, nearly tripping on the old rug and dropping the guitar in his haste to back away. As John’s slender frame started to shake uncontrollably, the younger man stepped forward and cautiously placed his hand on John’s shoulder as he knelt on the rug in front of the inconsolable boy.

“John…” Paul said softly. “What’s wrong?”

“I miss her so much,” John whispered in reply, as he turned his tearstained face towards the younger man.

Without warning, he launched himself into Paul’s arms, causing the two of them to topple to the ground with John lying flush against his mate’s body. Not knowing what to do, and unable to push the other boy off, Paul wrapped his arms around John’s shaking body instead, holding him close.

As the seconds ticked by, John’s tears ebbed, giving way to the occasional sniffle. He moved his head and looked into Paul’s eyes, the two of them caught in a heady gaze that lasted longer than either felt comfortable with. John could feel his body starting to respond to Paul’s, his current state of mind doing nothing to stem the rapid beating of his heart or the sudden shortness of breath. And if the flushed nature of Paul’s face was any indication, the younger boy was feeling the same way.

John quickly pushed himself up, putting some distance between the two of them as he stood, his hand running nervously through his hair as he turned away.

Paul silently cursed himself as he sought to get his breathing under control, his mind whirling with thoughts he was not yet ready to address. With a shake of his head, he turned his gaze upwards, eyes softening at the sight of his mate’s tearstained face.

“Julia?” he asked softly, his heart going out to the distraught teenager.

With a shaky sigh, John’s shoulders slumped as he answered, “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“No, I’m really not,” the other boy replied bitterly. Whirling around, he gazed at his friend with an expression akin to awe. “I don’t know how you do it,” he said in amazement. “Losing your mum like that. It’s been a month for me and I still can’t help hoping that it’s all just a horrible fucking dream.”

Looking down at his lap, Paul absently pulled an errant thread from the seam of his tight jeans, reluctant to make eye contact with the other boy lest his sadness shine through.

“It gets easier,” he said softly, when he finally got the courage to look up.

“I know,” John replied with a harsh laugh. “You’d think I’d get used to it by now. I mean,” he continued with a nonchalant shrug, attempting to mask the hurt and anger that continued to course through his veins. “She abandoned me once before, it shouldn’t surprise me that she’d abandon me again.”

“John!” Paul exclaimed, shocked at his words. “She didn’t exactly plan to get herself killed. It was a bloody accident. One that was not her fault.”

“No, but she didn’t accidentally abandon me the first time,” John shot back, his eyes narrowed and skin flushed in anger. “Shipping me off to Mimi’s when acting like a grown up became more than she could handle.”

“John…” Paul pleaded, standing up and reaching towards the angry young man, attempting to pull him towards the sofa.

“Don’t John me,” the older man snapped as he dodged Paul’s grasp. “She should’ve fucking known better. She never should have gotten married and had me if she wasn’t ready for it.”

As his anger grew, John’s body started to shake, giving the impression of a stick of dynamite about to explode. His face contorted with fury, John took a step forward, causing the younger man to flinch back in alarm.

“I would never do that,” the older boy raged. “I would never do that to my kid. I would never make them feel the way that she made me feel.” Pulling his leg back, John kicked his guitar across the room as he screamed, “That bitch!”

“John!”

Falling to his knees, John started to cry again, shoulders shaking as he buried his face into his hands. “Why didn’t she want me, Paulie?” he sobbed. “Why didn’t she want me? Why did she have to leave me all alone again?”

Crawling to his side, Paul pulled John into his arms, cradling the older man against his body, as he whispered into his ear.

“Shh, I got you Johnny,” he murmured soothingly. “I got you. You’re never going to be alone while I’m around.”

With the younger boy’s arms around him, John continued to cry, the two kneeling on the carpet in the darkening room.

 

 

 


	3. “I Do” – Chapter III | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**III.**

“Bloody hell.”

Throwing himself down onto the thin mattress, his every movement accompanied by a symphony of creaking springs, John moaned loudly, sweat soaked strands of thick hair falling into his face as he leaned back and closed his eyes. Turning around, Paul rolled his eyes at the older man’s theatrics before dropping his damp leather jacket to the floor, a sweat stained black shirt and worn leather trousers following shortly. With an exhausted sigh, Paul stumbled across the room and sat down on the edge of the neighbouring bed and immediately sandwiched his aching head between his knees, attempting to block out the sounds that drifted in from the street outside.

However, his actions did little to thwart the onslaught of noise from the busy Reperbahn that early Sunday morning. The previous night’s revelries continued uninterrupted as the sun rose and cast a rosy glow over the ongoing debauchery and mayhem.

“Fuck me,” Paul moaned softly, his body swaying from side to side, his voice muffled between his thighs.

“Now, that’s an idea,” John murmured under his breath, one eye opening slightly to look over at the hunched over form in the next bed.

“What was that?” Paul asked as he lifted his head up slightly to peer blearily over at the other man.

“Oh, nothing,” John stammered quickly as a red flush stole across his cheeks. Turning onto his side to face the wall, he muttered, “Nothing at all.”

With a shrug Paul lay down and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. However his restless body continued to toss and turn, the thin blanket twisting about his bare legs as he fought for the sleep he was owed.

Hearing the continual creaking of mattress springs accompanied by his partner’s moans and groans, John curiously sat up and looked over at the younger man.

“You okay, mate?” John inquired, concern marring his features.

With a sigh, Paul turned over a fixed the other man with a bloodshot gaze. “Have you ever been so tired that you just can’t fall asleep?” he asked.

Smirking, John flopped back on his bag as he answered, “Why do you think I’m still fucking awake?”

“Bloody hell, man” Paul whined. “I just want to get some sleep! Even a bloody hour would be enough!”

John rolled his eyes heavenward before responding tartly, “I don’t think whining is going to accomplish anything, Paulie.”

“Sod off,” the younger man snapped as he lay back down again, the springs poking into his bare back as he searched for a comfortable spot. Unable to find one, Paul growled in frustration before turning over and seeking out John’s face in the darkened room.

“So, Stu and Astrid, huh?” he began, addressing the older man.

Without so much as a glance, John replied in a flat voice, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, John,” Paul cajoled. “What the fuck is your problem anyway?”

“Leave me alone, Paul,” the other man snapped. “I said that I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fuck,” Paul breathed. “You’re always so touchy. I mean, you practically ripped Stu’s head off earlier when he told us.”

Sitting up, John turned an angry look on his mate as he snarled, “I would’ve too if you and Pete hadn’t held me back. Don’t know why you were so concerned for his safety anyway,” he scoffed. “You’ve never cared for him before.”

Nonchalantly Paul replied, “Well, I’ve found that it’s easier to like him now since his abysmal playing is no longer fucking us up.”

John simply glared in response.

“What?” Paul exclaimed, eyes wide. “He was crap, and you know it!”

“I know,” John sighed, a tired look replacing the one of anger. Grumbling, he continued, “Don’t know why he has to get married though.”

“I suppose he and Astrid love each other,” Paul replied with a shrug. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

“No!” John shouted suddenly, his eyes flashing with barely repressed anger. “Not when it’s going to fuck up our relationship! Not when it means that he’ll no longer have time for his mates.”

“Don’t be such a prick, John,” Paul shot back, face twisted in mild disgust. “It’s his life. You’re going to get married too someday.”

Muttering under his breath, John turned away. “Not bloody likely.”

Looking at the older man in disbelief, Paul scoffed, “Please. The way you and Cyn have been going, it’s just a matter of time.”

“Shut up, Paul,” John snapped irately, hands closing into fists as he stood up slowly into a fighting stance.

Sitting up, the younger man faced his mate head-on, disregarding the confrontational nature of John’s pose. “I most certainly will not,” he replied evenly.

“I’m warning you…” John growled as he took a step forward.

“Fuck you, John,” Paul snapped as he stood up, his poses mirroring that of his mate.

“Okay, that’s it,” John exclaimed, and with a loud battle cry, John leapt onto Paul and tackled him onto the bed.

The older boy positioned himself atop the younger one, one pair of bare legs pinning down another as John started tickling Paul, making him shriek in surprise. Nimble fingers poked and prodded at bare flesh, eliciting peals of laughter from both boys, the sounds of mirth ringing through the small room.

Paul attempted retaliation, but John held down the necessary limbs, effectively trapping the younger man underneath him. Paul wriggled uncomfortably, hips thrusting up, legs tangled with John’s, and his bare chest rubbing deliciously against the other man’s sweat slicked skin.

Eyes wide in apprehension, John stopped the onslaught of his fingers briefly as he looked into Paul’s face, startled by the look of confusion and a faint hint of desire etched into the younger man’s delicate features. With John momentarily distracted, Paul pushed the older man back and sat up self-consciously, his eyes darting around the room before finally settling on the hunched over form at the other end of the bed.

“You’re crazy, you know that right?” Paul commented wryly with a shake of his head as he leaned back against the wall, the thin pillows propped up behind him.

With a giggle, John stretched his arms over his head with a huge yawn and fell back into Paul, pillowing his head in the younger man’s lap. Tensing, Paul sat up straight, shoulders stiff as he stared down in mild panic. But when John’s eyes started to close, Paul allowed himself a modicum of relaxation and fell back against the pillows; the soothing sound of John’s breathing causing his own eyes to fall shut.

“I just don’t see why he has to get married,” John suddenly grumbled, effectively shattering the sleepy silence. “Wasn’t he happy being one of the lads?”

Eyes snapping open, Paul glared down at the older lad as he moaned, “Are you still on this?” Noting the pout on John’s face, Paul continued with a sigh, “I’m sure he was, but he’s in love with her. Plain and simple.”

Sighing, John turned his face to the side, his gaze trained on the dingy wall beside them.

“I just…” he trailed off absently, eyes starting to flutter closed.

“Just what?” Paul prodded gently as he leaned forward, ears straining to make out John’s hushed tones.

“I care for Cyn,” John began thoughtfully, pausing briefly as he yawned. “Don’t get me wrong, I really do. But settling down with her? I just don’t see it in the cards right now, if ever.”

“Why not?” Paul asked, a puzzled look on his face as he looked askance at the other man.

“I’d miss you too much.”

With a startled laugh Paul sat up, eyes locked on his mate’s sleepy face. “I’m not going anywhere, you git,” he responded fondly with a roll of his eyes. “We’re mates, right?”

“Maybe now, but once I get hitched I’ll probably be too busy with my husbandly duties to see you. It’ll just be a matter of time before you replace me,” the older man pouted sleepily. “I’ll be forgotten in a heartbeat.”

“John…”

Looking down, Paul smiled softly at the sight of John’s closed eyes, dark lashes against his pale skin. Leaning over, the younger man placed a soft kiss on the older man’s forehead before whispering into his ear, “I think it’ll be rather impossible to find anyone to take your place, love.”

With a sigh, Paul lay back against the pillows; wide eyes finally closing as sleep overtook him, his body delightfully warm from the figure lying atop him.


	4. “I Do” – Chapter IV | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**IV.**

“Did you see that?” Paul asked John, as he poked the older man in the side and looked over his shoulder.

“See what?” John asked disinterestedly as he brushed Paul’s hand away and rubbed the spot that had been poked, pausing to shoot the younger man a quick glare.

“That!” Paul hissed as he took hold of John’s shoulders and turned him around to see the two men in tight trousers walk by with their hands clasped together.

Face twisting uncomfortably, John brushed off Paul’s grip, eyeing the two men for a brief moment before quickly turning away.

“Fucking queers,” the older man spat in disgust, as he threw another glance over his shoulders.

“Shh,” Paul admonished, turning around quickly to make sure that John’s words had not reached the two men. “They might hear you!”

“Let them!” John shot back, face flushing angrily. Whipping his head around the older man began to yell, “Hey you! Take that filth elsewhere… Mmmmpff!”

His voice was suddenly cut off as Paul clasped his hand around John’s mouth and started to drag the struggling man away.

“Now, now, we can’t have any of that,” the younger man said quickly, his arms tightening around the slightly taller man. “You’re liable to get yourself kicked in the face, and we can’t have that. No one will come to see us play if you’re a bloody mess.”

Still struggling to escape, John sunk his teeth into Paul’s hand in a last ditch attempt to get free.

With a strangled curse, Paul let the other man go, immediately nursing his injured hand as he threw a furious look John’s way.

“Why’d you do that for?” the younger man hissed in pain, nursing the bleeding finger.

Smiling smugly, John simply shrugged, which infuriated the other man even more.

“You were being a prick,” the older man shot back. “And besides, my face started to hurt.”

Rolling his eyes, Paul sucked the offending digit into his finger before fixing his friend with another glare.

“Well, gee,” he began sarcastically. “I’m sorry. Clearly my trying to shut you up and save you from grievous harm warranted the bite of a demented guitarist.” Popping is finger back out, Paul moaned softly. “Now my finger is bleeding. Fucking hell, Johnny.”

Rolling his eyes, John held out his hand. “Let me see it.”

“Why?” the younger man snapped, as he backed away from John. “There is no way in hell that I am letting you inflict more damage.”

“Stop being such a girl,” John sighed, as he stepped forward. “Just let me see it.”

Grudgingly, Paul held his hand out to the older man, allowing himself to be pulled onto a nearby bench, his hand cradled in John’s lap.

“It’s not too deep and the bleeding seems to be stopping,” John commented as he turned Paul’s finger in front of his face. John lowered the hand to his lap and fixed his friend with a grin. “Good,” he exclaimed as he patted the younger man’s hand fondly. “Can’t have our best bassist incapacitated.”

Smirking, Paul replied with a roll of his eyes, “I’m your only bassist.”

“And let’s keep it that way.”

Bursting into laughter, the two men leaned back against the bench as they perused the street in front of them, taking in the sight of French people doing quintessentially French things. Giggling to themselves, John and Paul pointed out various things to each other, keeping up a stream of vaguely insulting commentary from their perch.

Trying to keep his giggle down to a low snicker, Paul quickly ducked his face behind his hand when John suddenly sat up straight, face turned towards the right.

“Hey, there they are again,” the older man whispered as he gestured towards the couple from earlier, pointing the two out indiscreetly.

“Behave!” the younger man scolded as he quickly grabbed John’s hand and held it on the bench between them. “Let’s not have a repeat performance of earlier.”

With a roll of his eyes, the older man grumbled. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied. “I won’t say a word.”

John and Paul watched on as the two men stopped beside a lamppost, the taller man leaning forwards and wrapping his arms around the other man, their lips coming together in a sweet kiss. The two men fell silent as they gazed at the touching scene, for a moment forgetting that they were two men from Liverpool, reared on a steady diet of homophobia.

“Do you think it’s illegal here as well?” Paul asked softly, unable to tear his eyes away from the couple.

“Not entirely sure,” John replied with a shrug as he leaned back. “I mean, they’re out in the open, so even if it is illegal, it might not be as bad as it is in England.”

“Probably not.”

“It’s a shame though, innit?” John sighed as he threw his friend a sideways glance. “They’re just blokes who happen to enjoy shagging each other. Never really saw what it had to with the rest of us.”

“What?” Paul exclaimed, finally tearing his gaze away from the two men in front of them. “Do my ears deceive me? Is John Lennon becoming an advocate of queer rights?” he finished with a laugh.

Face flushing slightly, John whirled around and glared down at the younger man.

“Sod off, Paulie,” he ground out. “I’m not that fucking heartless, even I can see that it’s not right.” Sighing, John slumped back, eyes taking on a sudden sadness as he turned towards Paul. “If two people love each other,” he began softly. “Who are we to say that they can’t be together?”

Their hands still clasped together, the younger man looked up into John’s serious face, eyes softening at the melancholic expression he saw there.

“Now, now,” Paul whispered as he leaned forward and placed his hand on the older man’s cheek. “It’ll be all right. I’m sure those two don’t give a toss what others think anyway.” Smiling cheekily, he continued, “They’ll probably go home and have a good fuck regardless of what people say.”

His words elicited a laugh from John, the two chuckling softly as they both leaned into each other, their foreheads touching.

“Get a room, you fucking queers!”

Startled, the two mates jumped apart and whirled towards the sound of the voice, their gaze falling on two sneering men on the other side of the street.

Standing as one, the two faced the strange men head on, palms itching for a fight. With an indescribable look in his eyes, John held his head high as he yelled back.

“Fuck off, you wankers!” the older man shouted. “You two are just jealous.”

A look of surprise fell across Paul’s face, as he whipped his head around at John’s words, but every thought in his head suddenly fled as John turned towards him and with a show of great passion bent the younger man over the side of the bench and planted a hard kiss on his lips.

Although he knew that the kiss was just for show, Paul’s heart fluttered inside his chest nonetheless and his eyes closed at the first touch of John’s mouth. A sudden onslaught of sensations coursed through Paul’s body, sensations that he chose not to dwell on as he gave in to the feel of John’s lips pressed against his. The kiss may have gone on longer than necessary, but at that point Paul had ceased to care.

Breaking the kiss, John looked into Paul’s darkened eyes briefly before throwing the two men a self-satisfied smirk.

“Who’s next?” he leered, eyebrows waggling suggestively as he beckoned them in a come hither manner.

The two men threw a disgusted look their way as they hurried off, John’s leer turning into a look of laughter as he turned towards Paul.

Wiping his mouth, the younger man looked at John with a disgusted look on his face.

“Did you even pack a toothbrush on this trip?” Paul groused, as he pantomimed scraping off his tongue with his blunt nails. “Ugh, I have the taste of stale beer and baked beans in my mouth!”

Now, now,” John shot back heartily as he clasped the younger man’s shoulder. “Stop your complaining. You know you enjoyed every minute of it.”

Grumbling, Paul turned his head away to hide the small grin that pulled at his lips.

“Didn’t say I didn’t,” Paul mumbled under his breath. “But would a piece of gum have killed you?”

“What was that, son?” John asked, fixing the younger man with a curious look as the two started back towards the city square.

Smiling slightly, Paul replied with a simple, “Nothing, Johnny. Nothing.”


	5. “I Do” – Chapter V | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**V.**

“That was bloody brilliant!!”

Looking into impossibly bright eyes, Paul couldn’t help but break into a mirroring grin.

“That it was, John love,” he crowed as he took a swig of perfectly chilled Guinness. “That it was!”

Standing up suddenly, John swayed for a brief second before throwing his arms into the air and letting out a happy shriek, “It was fucking amazing!”

“Hey, you lot want to keep it down over there, some of us are trying to have a civilized meal.”

Turning as one, John and Paul regarded the younger man on the other side of the table with identical grins.

“Well, well, well,” Paul sniffed, nose turning up noticeably. “Would you take a gander at our dear Lord Harrison? I do believe he’s gotten his knickers all in a twist.”

“Thinks he’s a big shot now, doesn’t he?” John replied, his voice taking on a haughty quality. “He is a recording star, after all.”

“Piss off, lads,” George replied with a grin as he threw a cloth napkin across the table at the two.

The napkin landed on John’s head, causing the older man to look up in mock offense, the table erupting in laughter. John stood and attempted to go after the younger Beatle, but the copious amounts of liquor that he had consumed that evening finally took its toll, causing the older man to very nearly trip over his own two feet.

Laughing, Paul quickly reached out caught the other man before he tumbled onto the ground, his hands firmly holding John around the waist.

“Pete,” George called out to their usually dour drummer. “I think someone may have had a bit too much to drink tonight.”

“Do you mean dear old John?” Pete queried, his flushed face the picture of surprise. “How can this even be possible?”

Pushing Paul’s hands away, John slumped into his seat, throwing the two men a surly look as he took another swig of scotch and Coke. Slurring, he shot back, “Have not!”

“Have too!” came the cheeky response.

“Not!”

“Too!”

Sighing, Brian stood up to leave, faintly lined hands massaging his temples as he did so. “Okay, I think it’s time that we all laid off the drinking and went to bed,” he called out authoritatively. “We’ve had a long day, and we are in store for an even longer one tomorrow.”

With a pout, John crossed his arms in front of his chest as he threw the older man a vaguely hostile look.

“I’d rather not,” the rhythm guitarist spat, eyes shooting daggers at their manager.

“John…” Brian pleaded, as he took a step forward, hands out in a placating gesture. “You really should get to bed.”

Shoulders stiffening, the younger man flinched back imperceptibly before replying with a “Piss off, Brian,” injecting as much venom into the three words that he could, causing the other men in the room to cringe in response.

A hurt look shot across Brian’s features before the older man immediately schooled his expression into its usual air of cool detachment. Whirling around, Brian muttered his parting words.

“And on that note, I’m going to bed,” he began, his voice resonating with barely controlled anger. “If anyone else wants to accompany me, be my guest.”

Paul, George, and Pete stared open mouthed at Brian’s retreating back, before turning back towards each other with puzzled looks of their own. With a shrug George stood, a yawn ripped from his mouth as he stretched his arms above his head.

“I’m knackered,” the younger man announced as he took one last swig of lukewarm beer. “I’m going to take a page out of Brian’s book and follow him up.”

Paul and Pete began to stand as well, both stopping mid-rise as they noticed John’s still figure, the older man continuing to sit stiffly at the table, narrowed eyes staring into his glass.

With a sigh, Paul sat back down. “I’ll stay with him,” he acquiesced, throwing the other men a reassuring smile.

“Are you sure?” George whispered aloud, his eyes darting quickly towards the sullen man a few feet away.

“Yeah,” Paul replied with a shrug. “We’ll be all right.”

Pete clasped the younger man on the back before he and George exited the dining room, throwing one last glance at the two men as they walked into the hotel lobby.

Scooting his chair closer to John, Paul laid his head on the table and looked up at his despondent mate, batting his long eyelashes at the other man in an attempt to get some sort of response. When John failed to comply, Paul lifted his head with a sigh as he took a sip of his beer, turning to the other man with a tight smile as he put down the glass.

“So…” Paul began, the word dying on his lips as John turned towards him.

“You can go,” the older man spat. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

Feigning surprise, Paul answered, “Who said that I was babysitting you? Can’t a bloke just have a pint with his best mate?”

“Whatever,” John responded dismissively, as he took another heady swig.

Shrugging, Paul followed suit, the two men continuing to drink in relative silence, accompanied by the faint sound of John’s ice clinking against the glass.

“I don’t like it,” John suddenly spoke, causing the younger man to look up in surprise.

“Like what?” Paul asked curiously as he set his empty glass down and turned towards the older man.

“The way Brian acts around me,” John grumbled as he took one last drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The way he looks at me, the way everything I say to him brings him close to tears. I can’t say anything to the blighter without him taking offense.”

Paul started to snicker, but quickly hid behind an unconvincing coughing fit when John threw him a glare.

“You mean you don’t enjoy the puppy dog eyes he gives you whenever you’re around?” the younger man snorted from between coughs, his hand quickly covering the smile that threatened to curl his lips.

With a final glare, John snapped, “Shut up, Paul,” before turning away, his eyes trained stubbornly on the window in front of them.

Paul laughingly replied, “Come on,” he cajoled. “Don’t tell me that you don’t enjoy being the object of his wildest desires?”

Still staring straight ahead, John bit out, “Paul, I’m warning you.”

Smirking, Paul leaned forward, his chin resting lightly on his mate’s shoulder as he whispered into John’s ear.

“I bet he misses seeing you in those tight leather trousers,” the younger man breathed. “Fingers yearning to run through your greased up hair and…”

“Oh, shut up, Macca,” John unexpectedly burst out, his head whirling around to meet his friend’s gaze. “I don’t need this from you tonight.”

Taken aback, Paul quickly moved away, ears ringing from the close proximity of John’s sudden yell.

“Fucking hell, mate,” the younger man yelped. “You know I was just taking the piss out of you, no reason to…”

“He kissed me earlier.”

The rest of Paul’s sentence died on his lips, mouth falling open in shock. John’s quietly spoken words ran through his head, a dull red creeping over his face as unexpected anger and jealousy mingled in deadly proportions.

“He did what?” Paul ground out, a hint of barely concealed fury tainting his voice as his hands curled into fists on the table, gaze trained on his mate’s downturned head.

John looked up with a start, noticing the dark look in his mate’s eyes. Swallowing hard he began hesitantly, “He tried to kiss me, and I let him.”

“You let him?” Paul ground out, voice low and menacing. “How could you just let him?”

“God damn it, Paul,” John shouted angrily as he jumped to his feet. “Do you honestly think that I wanted it to happen?”

Roughly shoving the chair to the side, John stomped towards the opposite side of the table, facing the window as the words tumbled from his lips.

“It happened so fucking fast! We were in the loo while the rest of you were loading our gear into the van. We were washing our hands, and I looked up into the mirror, and he was just looking at me. Before I knew it, he had me pushed up against the wall, and…”

“And what?” Paul prodded gently, the anger draining from his body as he stood and moved directly behind John, hesitantly placing a hand on his mate’s tense shoulder.

“That’s it,” the older man whispered, his head leaning forward and resting against the cool glass as he tried to ignore the tingle that ran through his body at the feel of Paul’s warm fingers. “He kissed me and then turned around and left without another word.”

“Fucking hell…” Paul sighed, with a shake of his head as he turned away.

“It’s not like I fucking wanted to kiss him,” John asserted again as he followed suit, twisting his body away from the window and staring at the younger man’s back. “It just… happened…”

Laughing bitterly, Paul faced his friend head on, blank eyes meeting unhappy ones.

“Yeah, it always seems to just happen with you, mate,” Paul spat. “Tell me, how many other men have you just happened to snog?”

With a serious look, John replied simply.

“Only one.”

An uneasy silence descended between the two men in wake of John’s softly spoken statement. Not knowing what to say or do, Paul trained his gaze on anything and everything in the room, studiously avoiding the other man’s gaze. John, however, continued to stare at his mate, head tilted to the side as he regarded the Paul’s tense stance.

“You want to get out of here?” John finally asked, his low voice breaking the uncomfortable silence.

With a resigned sigh, Paul trained red-rimmed eyes on the other man, before asking tiredly, “You okay to walk on your own? Because I really don’t fancy carrying you up the stairs on my back.”

Lips slowly curling into a smirk, John replied cheekily, “Don’t worry about that, there’s a lift in the reception. You’ll just have to carry me to that.”

Rolling his eyes, Paul followed John out of the room, quickly placing his arm around the other man’s waist when he stumbled after a few steps. The two silently staggered through the hotel lobby, their progression much like those competing in a three-legged race, with frequent stops and cursing. After much aggravation, the two men finally made it to the lift, John and Paul immediately moving to opposite ends of the cab as it whirled to life.

After a moment or two of silence, save for the low rumble of the elevator, John looked over at his mate, smiling to himself as he leaned sideways and playfully bumped Paul with his shoulder. With a frown etched into his brow, the younger man looked over, scowl deepening slightly when he saw John staring straight ahead, absently whistling a jaunty tune. With a shake of his head, Paul looked away, only to be bumped again. With a glare, Paul whirled on the other man and raised an eyebrow at John.

“What?” the older man asked with wide-eyed innocence.

Shaking his head, Paul fought the grin that threatened to overtake his face, and the two continued the rest of their ride up to the 10th floor in silence. Each casting sidelong glances at each other along the way.

In a matter of seconds, the elevator doors opened with a ding and the two men stepped into the hallway, making their way down the hallway until they stopped in front of John and George’s room.

Paul leaned against the wall, watching John as he slipped the key in and jiggled the knob for a second before turning it open with an audible click.

“Um…,” John finally muttered, his hesitant voice echoing in the empty hallway. Looking down, he struggled with the words before looking into Paul’s expectant face. “Are we okay?”

With a noncommittal shrug, Paul replied, “I suppose so.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, John favoured the younger man with a slight smile before gesturing towards the darkened room. “You want to come in for a bit?” he asked. “We can have a drink or three.”

Raising one delicately arched eyebrow, Paul shot the older man an incredulous look. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough tonight?” he asked in amazement.

“Enough scotch?” John asked, appalled. “Heavens no! There is no such thing, my boy.”

A begrudging laugh bubbled forth from between Paul’s lips, eliciting a full blown smile from his partner.

“Be that as it may,” the younger man began. “I’m going to have to pass. We’ve got a long drive back to Liverpool tomorrow, and I don’t fancy spending it hung over.”

With a shrug, John turned towards the door, muttering a half-hearted; “Suit yourself,” as he began to step through the doorway.

As Paul began to walk to the room he was sharing with Pete, John quickly turned around and called out to the younger man, causing the man to stop mid-step.

“Yeah?” Paul replied, an expectant look on his face.

With long, determined strides, John advanced on the younger man, his hand immediately curling around Paul’s neck, bringing the younger man closer as his mouth descended across Paul’s. John kissed his mate with all the pent-up frustration and passion that his 5’ 10” frame could possess, slanting his lips across the younger man’s mouth as his rough tongue traced the corners and flicked against Paul’s closed lips, delving inside when the younger man parted them with a gasp. John held the other man close, one hand bruising the delicate skin of his neck while the other hurriedly untucked the back of Paul’s shirt and splayed across the small of his back, chilled fingertips basking in the heat of the other man’s body.

John smiled against Paul’s mouth when he felt the other man grab his shoulders, the grin immediately turning into a moan when he felt Paul start to grind against him erratically, the younger man’s hardness brushing deliciously against his own. The hallway was filled with the muted sounds of their moans and the low rustle of clothing, neither caring about the very real possibility that anyone could walk into the hallway at any given moment.

However, breathing soon became an issue, and with his lips lingering for one sweet, brief moment, John slowly pulled back, a small smile playing along his lips as he stared into Paul’s lust filled gaze. Leaning forward the older man whispered hotly into the younger man’s ear.

“Just thought I’d show you that I’d much rather be kissing you.”

With open mouthed shock, Paul simply stared back in response, deep gasps wrenched from his lungs as he sought to get his breathing under control.

Shooting him an affectionate smile, John kissed the younger man softly on the forehead, before whispering, “Good night, Macca.”

And with one last inscrutable look, John quickly stepped into the room, closing the door with a click behind him and leaving a dumbfounded and confused Paul to sag against the wall and stare into nothing.


	6. “I Do” – Chapter VI | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**VI.**

“I can’t fucking believe it!”

Shooting a wary look around the crowded bar, John quickly pulled the collar of his coat up as he threw his mate an incensed glare.

“Speak up a bit louder, will ya. I don’t think the people in the street quite heard you,” the older man snapped, as he leaned in close to Paul. “Fucking hell, mate,” John groused in exasperation. “Do you want the whole bloody bar to know?”

With a nearly identical look on his face, the younger man simply glowered silently as he took another slug of scotch and coke, letting the potent liquor burn a path down his throat before responding.

“Well, how do you want me to fucking react?” Paul bit back in a slightly quieter tone. The diminished volume of his voice, however, did nothing to mask the barely repressed anger of the speaker. “Did you want me to congratulate you?” he spat, eyes in narrowed slits on his flushed face.

The older man opened his mouth to shoot off an equally incensed remark, but at the last minute John simply snapped his mouth shut and turned away, expelling a shaky breath as he stared into the amber depths of his half empty highball.

“It’s not like this is any easier on me, Paul,” John finally responded, his quiet, emotionless voice barely discernable over the din. “It’s not like I wanted this to happen.”

“Yeah, well, there are precautions that can be taken before sticking your prick in where it might not belong,” the younger man snapped, the bitterness in his voice a tangible thing.

Looking over at the younger man, John narrowed his eyes as he moved in close menacingly.

“Fuck you, Paul,” he growled low, the look on his face causing the younger man to flinch imperceptibly. “I don’t need this bullshit from you! You think I don’t know that I fucked up? That this is probably the biggest fuck-up in a long line of fuck-ups that have characterized my fucking excuse for a life?”

Paul simply stared back openmouthed, any retort that he might have had to John’s words getting caught painfully in his throat. Faced with Paul’s shocked silence, John turned away with a grimace, his ragged breathing barely audible over the sounds of revelry in the packed bar.

Expression softening, Paul reached forward, his fingers ghosting against the older man’s shoulder, only to quickly fall away as John abruptly stood and pushed his barstool back roughly, causing it to teeter precariously on its hind legs before settling back down with a snap against the hardwood floor.

“I… I can’t do this…” the older man stammered as he started to back away, his face pale. Turning around, John made a beeline for the loo; his long strides taking him halfway across the cozy pub before Paul even had a chance to call out to him.

Taking one last gulp of his drink, Paul hurried after the retreating man, unaware of the people he pushed past or the feet he stepped on in his haste.

However, as soon as the younger man came face to face with the closed door, all sense of bravado left his slender frame. Torn between confronting John and turning around and leaving the bar altogether, Paul let his forehead rest against the cool wood, the erratic beating of his heart increasing his agitated state.

Finally, after taking a few deep breaths, Paul gripped the doorknob and twisted it roughly, surprise infusing his features when it turned easily in his hand.

Eyes squinting as they adjusted to the suddenly bright light, Paul quietly stepped into the nearly empty room. His gaze immediately fell on John, the solitary figure leaning over the sink as his long hair creating a curtain around his face. With bowed head, John gripped the white porcelain tightly as his shoulders shook.

Closing the door behind him, Paul turned the lock with a click before leaning back against it, eyes never leaving John’s form, the older man giving no indication that he heard the younger man enter the room.

The silence stretched on, until Paul finally broke it with quietly spoken words.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Not bothering to turn around, John replied in a flat voice, “Well, I guess I’ll have to marry her then, won’t I?”

Eyes tearing up, Paul responded shakily, “Is that what you really want?”

The younger man’s question caused John to finally look up, his red-rimmed eyes meeting Paul’s through the smudged mirror, his gaze conveying everything that he wanted to say but was still unable to put into words. Instead, John replied with a bitter laugh and a rueful shake of his head.

“It’s not a case of what I want, Macca. It’s what I have to do.”

With nary a word, Paul crossed the restroom and cupped John’s face between shaking hands, fingertips caressing skin softly before crushing his mouth to the older man’s. John’s arms quickly wound around the bassist’s waist, molding their bodies together as Paul slanted his lips over John’s, blunt teeth tugging on the jutting lower lip.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss, nor was it a passionate one. It was a kiss fueled by desperation and fear, their lips finally expressing the dread that each man felt over the future of their relationship, though both men were still too afraid to label what they had as such. Voicing their feelings for each other would create a slew of problems that neither was prepared to face, to put everything into words meant acknowledging their attraction for each other and to make the whole situation that much more real. In a world where attachments between blokes were still frowned upon, there was nothing else that they could do but give up what they had in exchange for what society deemed respectable.

But at that moment, respectable be damned.

John’s lips bruised under the pressure of Paul’s kiss, his mouth opening with a gasp as Paul swept his tongue in, the rough surface gliding over sensitive gums and smooth teeth. As he continued to kiss the older man, Paul’s hands moved down the length of John’s back, hands fisting in the warm coat before tugging the offending material from his body, discarding the heavy garment in a heap of black wool on the damp restroom floor. John broke away from Paul’s mouth with a moan at the touch of the younger man’s cold hands on his warm skin, goose pimples breaking out immediately. His legs grew weak under Paul’s ministrations; the younger man’s embrace the only thing holding him upright.

“I wish you didn’t have to do this,” Paul whispered feverishly, clinging to the older man like a lifeline, as he kissed John’s neck, jaw, cheeks, and forehead, anywhere that he could reach.

“I know you don’t. I wish I didn’t have to either. If things were different, if we could…” John whispered back, his words trailing off with a shake of his head. “But there’s no point in wanting the impossible. It is what it is. The only option I have right now is to do what’s right.”

With one last hard kiss on swollen lips, John staggered away, the slam of the door reverberating through the room.

Fingers reaching up to his lips, the younger man stared into the mirror noting the puffy red eyes and the pallor of his skin. With a sigh, Paul turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, the shock of cold bringing some colour into his cheeks. However, the man that stared back at him still looked shell shocked, like a survivor of the most grievous circumstances.

Though how he was going to survive this, he did not know.

Paul took another minute to compose himself before exiting the loo, ignoring the gawking stares of the men in the bar. His eyes didn’t seek out John’s face in the crowd, nor did he think to look for him, instinctively knowing that the other man had already fled the premises. Instead Paul returned to the bar and lowered his body into the previously vacated seat and with a sigh he turned to the old barkeep and addressed him in a low, determined voice, two words falling flatly from his lips.

“Scotch. Straight.”


	7. “I Do” – Chapter VII | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**VII.**

“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Lovely Johnny. Have I ever told you how lovely you are?”

“Imagine that,” John slurred haughtily as he took another swig of room temperature ale. “Paul McCartney is pissed, yet I’m still fucking sober.”

George and Ringo exchanged amused glances, as they regarded their erstwhile leader with identical grins.

“Sober?” Ringo exclaimed, eyebrows rising in disbelief. “John, love, have you not noticed that you haven’t been able to walk straight in over an hour?”

Looking down at himself, John noted the numerous bottles of beer and emptied highballs littered around his prone form; a look of wonder was etched into his face when he looked back up again.

“Huh,” he commented in a daze. “I just attributed that to the fact that the room has been spinning out of control.”

With a goofy grin, John tipped his bottle back for another swig, most of the lukewarm contents ending up on his once pristine white shirt than in his mouth. Laughing, George leaned back against the sofa, arms crossed behind his head as he propped his feet up on the coffee table.

“So, what are we going to do about him?” the youngest of the group asked casually with a tilt of his head towards the currently passed out bassist.

“About who?” Ringo shot back as he took a long drag on his quickly dwindling cigarette, leaning over to tap the ashes into the overflowing ashtray by his feet.

“Whom.”

With a look of confusion on his face, Ringo turned towards the smirking lead guitarist.

“Huh?” he replied eloquently with a slight arch of his eyebrows.

“You said, ‘About who?’” George explained patiently, with a slight roll of his eyes. “It should be ‘About whom?’”

Mouth agape, Ringo simply stared back at the other man. Giggling, John leaned over and tried to close the drummer’s mouth, causing Ringo to bat the other man’s hand away before addressing the still smiling youngest man.

“When did you become a bleeding scholar?” Ringo shot back good-naturedly, a mirroring smile tugging at his lips.

“Always have been,” George responded snootily with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Didn’t you notice?”

Ringo fell back against the cushions with a laugh, “Must have slipped past me.”

The two men chuckled among themselves, when a sudden moan interrupted them.

“Would you lot quit your fucking yammering?” Paul whimpered from his corner, the bassist slowly sitting up with a hand clutching his head.

“You okay over there?” Ringo called out in a concerned voice from his perch on the sofa.

“What do you fucking think?” the younger man snapped, as he glared at the other men in the room, his gaze quickly passing over the rhythm guitarist in the corner directly across from him who was in the midst of trying to open another bottle of beer.

“Well,” Ringo began matter-of-factly as he sat forward, hands resting on his knees. “Seeing as how you set about emptying the contents of the liquor cabinet the moment we entered this lovely abode, I’d say that you’re probably feeling damn near shitty about now.”

“Astute observation, Richie,” Paul responded sarcastically. “Now fuck off.”

George exchanged a grin with Ringo, before retorting, “I think someone woke up on the wrong side of the bottle. Don’t you think so, Ring?”

Turning towards the conversation, John stared at the three men with a pensive look on his face. Smiling suddenly, he crawled forward, bottle clutched tightly in his hand.

“I have a cure for that headache of yours, Macca,” John called out, causing the three men to look over expectantly. “What better way to kill the effects of an impending hangover than by making sure that it doesn’t creep up on you any time soon?” he crowed, grinning wide as he held up his bottle of beer.

Looking between John and the other two men, Paul reached over and plucked the bottle out of his partner’s grasp.

“Who am I to argue with that logic?” he replied with a shrug as he downed the lukewarm beverage, wiping away the twin trails of amber liquid on his chin with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, John’s brand of logic certainly isn’t of this world, is it?” Ringo asked wryly, as he turned towards George.

“Not at all,” the younger man responded with a chuckle. “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if John wasn’t of this world at all.”

“Nor would I.”

As the two men laughed, Paul suddenly lurched to his feet, his face slightly green as he staggered across the room, nearly stumbling over his own two feet. Silence reigned as the sounds of retching emanated from the open door of the hall bathroom, causing the occupants of the living room to wince as one. As the nauseating sounds gave way to a disconcerting silence, the three remaining men looked at each other in concern.

“Um… Should one of us look in on him?” Ringo said as he stood, looking from John to George.

Waving his hand at the other man, John stumbled to his feet as he said, “I’ll go.”

With a relieved look on his face, Ringo sat back down. “That’s probably a good idea,” he responded with a grin. “Because judging by the amount that you drank, you’ll probably be next.”

“Thanks, mate,” John deadpanned, as he threw the drummer a withering smile before making his way slowly out of the room.

“Just looking out for you, John,” George called out with a laugh after the departing man.

Clutching the wall, John slowly made his way towards the bathroom, only to find the room empty and Paul nowhere to be seen. Frowning, he turned from the doorway, feet nearly getting tangled in the discarded black suit jacket that littered the hallway. His puzzled gaze traveled the length of the hall making out a trail of clothing; a black tie here, a pair of black slacks there, a sock even further away. Following the clothing strewn path, John reached Paul’s room, the younger man’s shirt draped over the doorknob.

Pushing the door open, the sight that greeted John was one that he was not completely prepared for: Perched on the window seat, his bare skin bathed in moonlight, sat Paul in nothing but his boxers, his gaze trained on something outside the window.

John’s eyes widened at the sight, all traces of his previously drunk state nearly gone as his breathing sped up. His fingers itched to caress the incandescent skin, his lips eager to kiss the pale column off Paul’s throat. Closing his eyes, John could almost feel the other man writhing underneath him, could almost taste and smell the younger man. Snapping his eyes open, John gave his head a hard shake, trying to dispel the images that ran through his head.

“Are you okay?” John asked Paul quietly, as he stepped into the room.

Jumping at the sudden intrusion, Paul whirled around, his face a mixture of surprise. However, upon seeing his unwelcome guest, the younger man’s face hardened and John caught a quick glimpse of anger in the younger man’s eyes before Paul turned away.

“Oh, it’s just you,” the younger man intoned flatly, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a shake of his head, John stepped completely into the room, shutting the door behind him before he addressed the seemingly sullen man.

Taking a deep breath, John slowly moved towards Paul as he said quietly, “I asked you a question.”

Not bothering to address John directly, the younger man sneered, “I’m peachy.”

Rolling his eyes, the older man muttered under his breath, “I think I liked you better when you were drunk.” Addressing Paul with a sigh, John said out loud, “What’s wrong now? You were fine just five minutes ago. Why the sudden mood swing?”

“Why do you care anyway?” the younger man ground out, his shoulders tense, face still turned away. “I said I’m fine. Now why don’t you toddle off to your room and go fuck your wife or something.”

Pursing his lips tightly, John shot back angrily, “Maybe I will!”

“Go ahead,” Paul replied venomously with a dismissive wave. “No one’s fucking stopping you. Make sure the door doesn’t hit you on the way out.”

Mouth agape, John simply stared at his mate, as he struggled for a response.

“What happened to us Paul?” the older man finally asked, his voice quiet, eyes trying to meet Paul’s gaze.

“What are you talking about?” the younger man replied, still unwilling to turn around. “I said that everything’s bloody fine, didn’t I?”

“Nothing’s fine,” John shot back, his voice shaking slightly. “Nothing’s been fine.”

“Really?” the younger man replied, the casual tone of his voice bellied by the tight fists at his side. “I haven’t noticed.”

“Fucking hell, Paul!” John growled, as he took a step forward, hands itching to shake some sense into the younger man. “Don’t give me that bullshit. Don’t act as though everything’s all right!”

“What do you want me to do, John?” Paul finally burst out, his face a mask of rage as he turned to the older man. “What do you fucking want me to say? Do you want me to tell you how it feels to see you every fucking day and not be able to hold you? How the sight of your perfect little family sickens me?” Face starting to crumple, tears filled Paul’s eyes as he choked out, “How sometimes I can’t bear to even be in the same room as you because it fucking rips me apart inside?”

Paul quickly turned away, shoulders shaking with silent sobs as he covered his face with his hands.

John moved forward, his hands clasping the younger man’s shoulders as he gently turned Paul around. Hands wrapping themselves around the older man’s, Paul buried his face into John’s neck, tears soaking the older man’s skin.

“I can’t do it anymore, John,” Paul cried, his voice muffled in the hollow of John’s throat. “I just can’t. It’s too fucking hard.”

Hands caressing Paul’s bare back, John placed his face alongside the younger man’s, his breath tickling Paul’s ear as he whispered, “I know, Macca. It’s hard for me too. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret everything that’s happened.” His voice choking up, John continued in a strangled whisper, “God, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

Stiffening, Paul leaned back slowly, face a mixture of fear, elation, and surprise as he regarded the older man with a wary eye.

“What did you say?” he asked softly, large eyes bright with unshed tears.

Smiling softly, John simply moved forward and captured Paul’s lips with his own.

The younger man grew absolutely still, the unexpected kiss freezing him instantly. His mind whirled with the implications of both John’s words and his actions, but as the older man’s lips moved insistently against his own, Paul’s baser instincts took over with a muffled moan, and he responded in kind.

Their hands moved constantly, agitatedly, each man seeking the warmth and the comfort that the other offered unconditionally. As John sucked on the tip of Paul’s tongue, the younger man quickly divested his partner of his confining white button down, flinging the garment to the ground with a flick of his wrist. As his nimble fingers traveled to John’s belt, the older man moved his lips to Paul’s ear, nibbling on the lobe briefly before uttering one word.

“Don’t.”

With a confused look, the younger man looked into John’s eyes, his brief flash of rejection soothed by the darkened orbs that stared hungrily back at him. With a short nod, Paul moved his hands away, resting them in the hollow of John’s back as the older man ran his calloused fingers along the waistband of his boxers, teasing the faint trail of dark hair lightly with each caress.

Paul moaned low, his eyes falling shut as the simple touch of John’s fingertips aroused him to even greater heights.

“John…” he groaned before fastening his lips in the hollow of John’s throat, his tongue darting out every so often to tantalize the sensitive skin.

“Shh,” the older man cautioned with a smile as he pulled Paul’s boxers down, and with a smile, John followed.

The first touch of John’s tongue caused the younger man’s eyes to fly open, a loud groan sounding in the otherwise quiet chamber. The cool, wet roughness ran along the underside of the younger man’s cock, stimulating the nerve endings there before moving towards the head. With a heated look up into Paul’s eyes, John swallowed him in one gulp, blunt teeth gently scraping the top and bottom as his tongue swirled its entire length.

Paul’s legs faltered, so he quickly braced himself against the window with one hand while the other tangled itself in John’s auburn locks, holding his head tightly against his body as the older man continued to suck and kiss the column of hardened flesh. As John’s ministrations grew in intensity, he was forced to grasp the younger man’s hips to keep Paul’s frenzied thrusting at a minimum. Swirling his tongue around the tip, John continued to suck as he wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, moving up and down to the steady rhythm set by his mouth.

Eyes shut tight and breathing erratic, Paul finally came with a groan into John’s mouth. Eyes turned upwards and taking in the younger man’s satisfied expression, the older man swallowed with a lazy grin, licking his lips as he stood. Face breaking into a small smile, Paul pulled John close and placed a hard kiss on his lips, moaning softly as he tasted himself on the older man’s tongue.

With a sigh, the two fell back on the window seat, John’s head pillowed on Paul’s lap as he stretched along the length of the bench. Fingers lightly running over John’s scalp, tugging gently at the auburn strands, Paul looked out the window, a contemplative look on his face.

Turning towards John’s upturned head; he asked softly, “This isn’t going to help matters, is it?”

“Probably not, but…”

“But what?” Paul asked curiously, breaking in as John trailed off.

Struggling to sit up, John threw his legs over the side as he turned to face the younger man, eyes taking in Paul’s confused gaze. “Is it really so bad?” he asked with a tilt of his head. “Isn’t taking whatever we can preferable to having nothing at all?”

“If you have no other option, sure,” Paul replied with a noncommittal shrug as he turned his face away. “But it’s hardly a satisfactory solution.”

With a wounded look, John quickly stood, his back to his seated mate as he began in a flat voice, “Well, if you’d rather not…”

“Stop it, John,” Paul exclaimed hurriedly, as he reached forward the grasped the older man’s hand. “I didn’t say that I didn’t want to. At this point I’ll gladly take whatever I can get.” Standing, the younger man turned John around and placed a soft kiss on the other man’s forehead. “I love you too, you know,” the Paul whispered against John’s skin.

Sighing, John’s head fell forward and rested heavily on Paul’s shoulder as he responded quietly, “I know.”  
Looking around the room, his gaze fell on the bedside clock, eyes widening when he saw the time. “Fucking hell,” he swore. “It’s after 3 AM!” With an apologetic look on his face, John pulled back slightly and continued regretfully, “I should get back to my room. Cyn will worry.”

Schooling his features into a look of cool detachment, Paul smiled tightly; though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, all right,” he muttered, as he released the older man, arms immediately crossing over his chest.

Paul watched as John turned to go, the older man bending over to pick up his discarded shirt, absentmindedly weighing the material in his hand before turning to the younger man with an inscrutable expression. He stepped forward and gave Paul one last kiss before striding across the room. At the doorway John turned and favoured Paul with one last smile before disappearing down the dark hallway.

And with a shaky sigh, Paul sat down on the edge of the bed, his head held tightly in his hands.


	8. “I Do” – Chapter VIII | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**VIII.**

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

Looking up at the man standing beside him, Paul squinted as the sunlight assaulted his eyes. With one hand shading his orbs, Paul took in the sight of his mate, hands casually in his trouser pockets, dressed impeccably in a new black suit and polished black shoes. John was definitely a far cry from the Teddy boy that he once was, though in Paul’s eyes, he was no less appealing.

Not allowing his thoughts to wander where they were wont to do whenever he was in close proximity to the man in question, Paul turned his head away with a slight grimace, focusing his gaze on the gaily garbed people milling around the decorated backyard, clustered in groups with plates of food and glasses of beer held in their hands.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” the uncharacteristically sullen man responded, as he turned his head away from the scenes of revelry before him and looked down instead, suddenly interested in the invisible speck of lint on his dark slacks.

Chuckling softly, John lowered himself on a neighbouring wrought iron chair as he placed his hands on the small, decorated table, resting his chin on folded arms.

“Come on, mate,” John cajoled as he peeked up at the younger man through disheveled locks of hair. Poking the younger man in the side, he continued cheerily, “It’s sunny in Liverpool in the middle of bloody November. I think Mother Nature deserves a bit more gratitude than that.”

With a roll of his eyes, Paul leaned back and tilted his face towards the sky, the light playing on his upturned features. Barely repressing a schoolgirl sigh, John stared unabashedly at his mate’s face; the older man’s fingers itching to push the locks of thick dark hair from Paul’s closed eyes and to kiss what he knew were sinfully soft lips. His hands moved forward of their own volition, his fingertips just barely brushing the other man’s hand.

“Oh, shut up, John,” Paul suddenly spoke irritably, causing the older man to quickly pull back his hand and sit up straight. Opening his eyes, Paul fixed the flustered man with a harsh glare. “I’m not in the mood right now,” he ground out.

Hands up in a placating gesture, John stood quickly as he retorted, “Fine, mate. Excuse me for disturbing your little temper tantrum. I’ll be over there, far away from you so that my mere presence will cease offending you.”

As John turned to walk away, Paul slouched down further in his chair, hand busily rubbing his aching temples. With a sigh he called out to the other man, halting his retreat.

“Wait, John, come back,” he pleaded, face a picture of remorse. “I didn’t mean to be such a prick.”

The older man slowly turned towards Paul, an inquisitive look on his face as he returned to the table. Hands crossed in front of his chest, he gave the younger man a hard stare.

“I’m a bit surprised is all,” he commented with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you’d be happy for your da.”

“Yeah, that’s the bloody problem,” Paul grumbled under his breath. “I’m not.”

“You’re not?” John parroted, surprise infusing his words.

Scowling, the younger man shot back angrily, “How can I be?”

“How can you not?” John asked, bewildered.

“He’s getting married, John!”

Rolling his eyes, the older man returned to his seat before biting back sarcastically, “I was wondering what that priest was doing here earlier.”

“Don’t you get it?” Paul huffed in disgust, eyes flashing angrily. “He’s forgotten me mum! How could he fucking forget her like that?”

With a sigh, John leaned forward and placed his hand on his mate’s knee causing Paul to tense up and stare back at John’s serious face with wide eyes.

“He’s been alone for a long time, Macca,” the older man said softly, his hand gently squeezing Paul’s thigh. “It’s not like your mum died last week. It’s been nearly a decade. Besides,” he continued with a slightly confused glance. “I thought you liked Angie and Ruth.”

Looking slightly sheepish, Paul lowered his eyes as he replied, “I do. It’s just…”

“Come on Paul,” John interrupted in an exasperated tone. “Don’t be a fucking baby. Just because he’s getting remarried doesn’t mean that he’s forgotten your mum or you, for that matter. You and Mike are older now, living your own lives. Isn’t it time that he got to do the same?” Tilting his head to the side, John tried to catch Paul’s lowered gaze, however the younger man resolutely focused his eyes on his lap. With a sigh, John continued, “It must be hard. Living alone all these years, raising two teenage boys without the person you love. You should be happy that he’s found someone who can make him happy again.”

Properly chastised and looking more than a little embarrassed, Paul glanced up, his apologetic eyes finding John’s stern ones.

“I know you’re right and I know that I’m being a fucking tosser,” he sighed, with a shake of his head. “But I just can’t help but be bothered by it. I still miss her,” he finished with a whisper as he sharply turned his head away.

Placing a finger beneath Paul’s chin, John turned the younger man’s face back around, forcing Paul to look at him. “

“And I still miss me mum,” John replied with a sad smile. “But we can’t spend the rest of our lives moping. You have to eventually move on.”

Eyebrows raised, Paul fixed the older man with an incredulous look.

“This from the bloke who still can’t forgive George for spilling beer on his leather pants back in Hamburg?” Paul commented with a smirk, as he leaned back in his chair with a mischievous look on his face.

“Hey!” John exclaimed, as he punched the younger man in the shoulder. “They were my favourite pair!

With mirroring grins, the two men started to laugh, the sounds of their merriment traveling across the lawn and catching the attention of the other guests. With looks bordering on admiration and indulgence, the elders at the party simply shook their heads as if to say, “Boys will be boys” before returning to their conversations and libations.

As the laughter slowly tapered off, the two men fell into a companionable silence, their gazes focused on the sight of Paul’s father and his new wife happily walking hand in hand as they greeted their guests, Paul’s new stepsister Ruth trailing behind them, her hair swept up in a messy braid with flowers woven through.

“He does look happy, doesn’t he?” Paul commented softly, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched his father dip his stepmother over his arm and plant a lingering kiss on her lips, their guests cheering and toasting the loving display.

“That he does,” John replied, as he turned and favoured his partner with a smile.

“You know,” Paul began hesitantly. “I don’t remember you looking quite as thrilled on your wedding day.”

“Well, that’s because I wasn’t too thrilled to be a part of it. Besides,” John continued as he reached over and placed his hand atop Paul’s. “I wasn’t marrying the person I was in love with.”

Looking down at their intertwined hands, Paul cheekily replied, “Was, huh? Didn’t know you were the fickle type, Lennon.”

“Shut up, Paul,” John shot back with a laugh. “You know what I mean.”

The smile slowly faded from the younger man’s face and was replaced with a serious look as he quietly asked, “Do you think it’ll ever be possible?”

Puzzled by the sudden change in Paul’s demeanor, John squeezed Paul’s hand tightly, before responding.

“Do I think what will be possible?” he asked, looking askance.

“Getting married,” Paul replied simply, his expression hinting at a deeper meaning behind his words.

Understanding dawning, John shook his head slightly before responding with a sigh.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he said, a sad expression etched into his face. “The way people feel about such things these days, doesn’t seem bloody likely, does it?” Forcing a note of hope into his voice, John continued with a shrug, “But maybe, one day.”

“Yeah,” Paul echoed, his voice dull and emotionless. “One day.

And as the sun set overhead, the two men watched the happy couple enjoy their wedding reception, dreaming of impossible things as they gripped each other’s hand tightly.


	9. “I Do” – Chapter IX | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

** IX. **

“Faster, Uncle Paul! Faster!!”

Running at high speed as he weaved between low bushes and tall trees, Paul bounced Julian on his back, much to the delight of the adorable toddler. As the child screamed in delight, Paul took off with another burst of speed, his breathing ragged as he neared the crystalline lake, long legs gamboling down the grassy hill.

Following slowly behind, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, John smiled to himself as he took in the sight of the two cavorting around the park. He leaned up against a tree, eyes softening as he saw the care that Paul took with his son, his affection for the man filling his senses. Shaking his head, John lowered himself to the grass, crossing his legs and got as comfortable as he could on the packed earth before lighting a cigarette, the nicotine-laced smoke clearing his mind.

Huffing and puffing, his lungs screaming for oxygen and his legs sore beyond relief, Paul finally came to a stop, prying the boy’s arms from his shoulders as he set Julian down on the ground with a low moan. Heart beating wildly, Paul doubled over with his hands on his knees as he took in wild gulps of air, trying to get his breathing under control.

“Bloody hell, Jules,” Paul gasped between breaths. “You’re getting too big, little man. Soon you’ll be the one carrying me on your shoulders!” he exclaimed as he tickled Julian’s stomach, causing the little boy to squirm away with a high-pitched giggle.

Hopping from one foot to the other in childlike impatience, Julian asked, “Can I play with the birds, Uncle Paul?” his eyes wide, lips jutting out in a pout.

Ruffling the boy’s hair, Paul nodded his assent as Julian ran off; quickly calling out, “Don’t go far, Julian.”

Face screwed up in delight, the light-haired child started running through the flocks of pigeons, before picking up a pointed stick and starting a sword fight with an invisible adversary. With a tired sigh, Paul trudged towards the seated John and immediately sprawled on the grass at the older man’s feet with a moan. Eyes closed, face set in a pained grimace, it took John every bit of self-control not to laugh at Paul’s expense.

Instead, with a smirk, John reached over and poked the younger man in the stomach, causing Paul to crack open one eye and fix the older man with a glare before closing the eye again.

Laughing, John poked Paul a second time as he said, “He likes you a lot.”

“Who? Jules?” Paul asked as he opened his eyes, immediately squinting as the sunlight shined brightly in his face. Struggling to sit up, he continued, “Of course, he does. I’m his fucking personal airplane, aren’t I?”

With a pensive look on his face, John slowly shook his head, as he replied, “No, I mean, he really adores you.” Rolling his eyes, the older man turned to look at Paul, giving him a wry smile. “You’re all he bloody talks about. ‘Uncle Paul this’ and ‘Uncle Paul that.’ He thinks that you’re the best bloody thing since the Beatles.”

Grinning, Paul slapped John good-naturedly on the back, “Do I detect a note of jealousy, love?” he said with a laugh.

“Jealous of you?” John scoffed, as he turned away. “Just because my own son likes you better than he has ever liked me? No, of course I’m not jealous.”

Laughing, Paul leaned forward and slung an arm around the older man’s shoulder, whispering in his ear, “You’re hardly convincing, Johnny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” John shot back with a slight grin. “I’ll admit it,” he continued with a shake of his head. “I am a bit jealous. He is my son after all, but he clearly prefers you.”

“It’s only because I play with the little bugger,” Paul responded with a shrug. “It’s not exactly difficult.”

Rolling his eyes, John lay down on the grass, his arms pillowed under his head. “Speak for yourself,” he shot back. “I wouldn’t know what to do with the kid.”

“Stop being difficult,” Paul groaned, as he followed suit and copied the older man’s repose.

“I’m not!” John exclaimed as he glanced sideways at Paul. “You, of all people, should know that I know bugger all about kids.”

Laughing, Paul propped his head up on one hand as he looked down at his agitated mate. “You think I do?” he retorted, with an exasperated expression. “Julian just wants your attention, mate. You don’t have to go out of your way either. Just draw with him; maybe throw a ball around, anything. Any time you two spend together, no matter how seemingly insignificant, will make the kid happy.”

“When did you become Dr. Spock?” John grumbled, as he turned away, eyes focusing on the branches overhead instead.

“Hey!” Paul exclaimed in mock indignation, as he shoved the other man. “Do I look like a pointy-eared alien to you?”

With a roll of his eyes, John pushed the other man back, “I said Dr. Spock, you wanker. Not Mr. Spock.”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Paul gave his friend another hearty shove causing John to skid a few feet away, grass stains streaking the back of his jacket. Shooting the other man a quick glare, John started to stand, hands brushing off the backs of his legs and the seat of his pants.

However, just as his feet were planted firmly on the ground, he was immediately on his back again with Paul’s slim frame atop him, the younger man grinning triumphantly from his perch, face flushed from his flying tackle. Although John enjoyed the feeling of Paul’s warm body pinning him down into the grass, with a determined look the older man kneed Paul in the stomach and quickly flipped the two over, looking down at the younger man in glee as he now lay in the position of dominance.

Groaning, Paul clutched his stomach, face twisting in pain.

“Fucking Christ,” Paul moaned low, causing John to quickly jump up, face creased in concern.

“You all right, mate?” John spoke urgently as he kneeled aside the seemingly injured man, watching Paul slowly curl into the fetal position. Immediately apologetic, John lowered his head and placed his hand on Paul’s, giving it a sympathetic squeeze.

It was at that moment that an impish grin stole across Paul’s face and with a sudden flick of the wrist he grabbed John’s hand and pulled him to the ground before tackling the older man with a loud battle cry. John thudded to the grass with a pained “oomph,” surprised eyes soon falling on the younger man’s smirking face.

With a shake of his head and a grin pulling at his own lips, John remarked, “Real mature, Paulie. Real mature. What ever would your high class society friends think if they saw their golden boy rolling around in the grass like a ruffian?”

Leaning in close, Paul whispered in John’s ear, “They wouldn’t say a thing because they’d love to be rolling around with the gorgeous John Lennon themselves.”

And with a devilish look in his eyes, Paul kissed the older man soundly on the lips. Eyes closing sweetly, John tangled his hands in the soft hair at the base of the younger man’s neck and tugged Paul close, eliciting a low moan from both men. Heedless of the dangers that their public show of passion posed, the two men got lost in the kiss. They playfully nibbled lips, trailed kisses down a slightly stubbled jaw, and gently sucked on the sensitive pulse in the hollow of a throat, as lightly muscled arms held each other close.

When breathing became an issue, Paul pulled back slowly, a smile playing on his lips as he stared into the darkened eyes of his partner. With a happy sigh, the younger man rolled off John, and laid on his back abreast the other man, their hands instinctively wrapping around each other.

Eyes staring up at the blue skies above, John and Paul lay silently together, enjoying the warmth of the sun on their faces and the nearness of each other.

Finally, with a curious look on his face, John turned to Paul and asked, ““What about you?”

“What about me?” the younger man parroted, a look of confusion on his face as he continued looking overhead.

“Well,” John began conversationally, his thumb beginning to rub Paul’s hand unconsciously. “Since you love kids so much, why haven’t you and Jane popped out a few yet?”

Face twisting in a look of mild disgust, Paul turned his head to the side and gave his mate a quick look of disapproval. “Lovely imagery, Johnny,” he replied with a grimace.

Waving away Paul’s displeasure, John continued, “Never mind. Answer the question.”

“It’s not the right time,” Paul replied slowly, as he began to sit up. “She’s busy with her plays; I’m busy with the band. Besides, we’re not even married, let alone engaged.”

Sitting up himself, John placed one hand on his knee while he continued to grasp Paul’s in the other. Tilting his head to the side, a serious look stole over his face as he commented, “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. What’s with the hold up?”

“It’s not the right time, John,” Paul muttered under his breath, lips set in a straight line.

“Bollocks!” the older man exclaimed. “You two have been together for years! Hell, you’ve always been the one keenest on settling down and having a litter of rug rats. What changed your mind?”

Staring back at John solemnly, Paul simply replied, “You did.”

Face paling, John locked eyes with Paul, a meaningful look passing between the two men as the significance of the younger man’s words sunk in. With a sad sigh, John leaned forward and cupped Paul’s cheek, the younger man grabbing hold and placing a single kiss on the palm of his hand.

“Uncle Paul, daddy!” an excited voice suddenly shrieked, followed by the pounding of running feet.

Dropping his hand from Paul’s face, the two men turned towards the running child, their twin melancholic expressions melting in small degrees at the sight of the happy child.

“What is it, Jules?” Paul yelped as the little boy threw himself into his open arms, causing the two of them to topple to the ground in a mass of tangled arms and legs.

“I was chasing the birds, and then I saw a duck, but I didn’t have any food, so, I threw rocks at it, but then it got mad and started to chase me, so, I got a stick and tried to make it go away. But it wouldn’t, so, I ran!” the bubbly child rambled, face animated as he regaled the two men with his adventures.

A slow smile spreading across his face, John reached over and ruffled Julian’s hair affectionately, causing the child to look up at his father with a look akin to happy wonder. Giggling, he moved from Paul’s lap and crawled towards John, draping himself across the elder Lennon’s lap.

Tweaking Julian’s nose, John gave Paul a quick grin before saying, “Maybe you can show me those ducks of yours, and we can fend them off together.”

Face breaking into a huge smile, the little boy scrambled to his feet and tried to pull his father along with him, much to the amusement of both men.

Looking up at John, Julian asked with a pout, “Daddy, can Uncle Paul come too?”

Looking down at the seated man with a grin, John extended his hand out to Paul, which the younger man grasped with a small grin. After pulling him to his feet, the two men held hands for a little longer than necessary, but not long enough to arouse the suspicions of a little boy.

“Of course, Jules,” John answered with a smile. “As long as he’s not busy.”

When Paul nodded his assent, Julian erupted in excited cheers. “Yay! I love Uncle Paul! He’s my best friend!”

Still looking at Paul, John replied softly, “I love Uncle Paul, too.”

With a mirroring grin, Paul took hold of Julian’s left hand while John grabbed the child’s right and the three made their trek down the grassy hill towards the lake.

Grinning playfully, the older man looked towards his mate and said, his voice dripping with heady implication, “Oh, by the way, I’m still going to get back at you for that stunt you pulled earlier.”

“Looking forward to it,” Paul shot back, eyes dancing as he met John’s over the young boy’s head.

And with their arms swinging in time to their strides, the three continued their walk through the park, the midday sun warming their heads and causing the water in the distance to sparkle invitingly.


	10. “I Do” – Chapter X | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**X.**

“Open the door, you wanker!”

The sound of rain beating against the windows were suddenly interrupted by an irate voice from the other side of the front door punctuated by the wild ringing of the doorbell, both sounds barely discernable over the ominous rumble of thunder.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and grumbling curses under his breath, Paul trudged down the stairs, preparing to give whoever was on his front step a piece of his mind for daring to awaken him at such an ungodly hour. He flung the front door open savagely, his fierce look melting into one of surprise as got a brief eyeful of the bedraggled figure on his doorstep illuminated by a flash of lightning. Before he could utter a word, Paul found his arms suddenly full of the same wet, cold body, a pair of icy lips slanted across his own.

Body stiffening at once, Paul’s arms rose of their own volition, poised to push off the intruder. However, when the familiar taste of scotch and cigarettes burst in his mouth and the scent of marijuana awakened his senses, he pulled the other man close instead, wrapping his arms around the other man briefly before pulling back with a yelp as the cold rain seeped through his thin pajama top.

Grinning, John tossed his head back, the stray droplets of rainwater that clung to his hair becoming airborne and immediately landing on Paul’s bare arms.

The only response John got was a glare from the increasingly incensed bassist.

“What?” John asked innocently, eyes wide and lips in a pout. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Paul continued to glare, his foot tapping in irritation, but when the older man clasped his hands in front of him and looked up at Paul with an angelic expression with his head tilted to the side, the younger man couldn’t help but smile, albeit a little begrudgingly, as he reached over and enfolded the other man in a quick hug.

“Of course I am, you wanker,” Paul replied with a laugh. Pulling back he gave the other man a quick disapproving look as he continued, “Though I’d probably be happier if you hadn’t shown up soaking wet and dripping on my new wood floors in the middle of the bleeding night.”

“Well, then, I guess I best get out of these clothes as soon as possible,” John commented airily, as he kissed the younger man on the cheek before flouncing up the stairs, leaving Paul staring openmouthed behind him.

Stopping at the top of the stairs, John called down, “You coming, love?”

Paul shook his head in amusement as he turned off the downstairs light and unhurriedly followed the other man to the second floor bedroom. As he moved towards the chamber, he saw John framed in the doorway as he unselfconsciously stripped out of his drenched clothes, dropping his coat and trousers in a soggy pile in the middle of the room, before peeling the soaked shirt from his body.

Pausing in the doorway, Paul admired the other man, eyes traveling down the length of John’s fair skin and lightly muscled arms. However, when his gaze fell on the sodden pile of clothing that was soaking through his imported rug, Paul frowned, and all thoughts of seduction flew out of his mind.

“John…” the younger man called out, arms on his hips.

Unaware until that moment that he was no longer alone, John turned to Paul with a smile, a smile that died as soon as he saw the look of irritation on the younger man’s face.

“Yeah?” John replied warily.

Glaring meaningfully at the pile on his floor, John turned with a sigh and picked up the discarded clothing and brushed past Paul as he moved through the doorway to the hamper in the bathroom.

“You can be such a bint sometimes,” John grumbled under his breath just loud enough for the other man to hear.

With an amused smile on his face, Paul shook his head as he entered the bedroom, turning off the main light as he moved towards the bed, immediately bathing the room in the warm golden glow from the bedside reading lamp. Stretching with a yawn, Paul got under the still warm covers as he retrieved the book he had thrown to the side before going to bed earlier that night.

After a few minutes when John came ambling in, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and glasses, that was how he found the younger man, his nose stuck in a book. Clearing his throat to get Paul’s attention, John posed in the doorway like a model, before strutting through the room with a light swing to his hips.

Rolling his eyes, Paul quickly stashed the book away as John jumped on the bed and greeted Paul with a quick kiss. Placing his glasses on a nearby table, John sank into the soft pillows with a sigh as he pulled the younger man onto his chest.

“So, when did you get those?” Paul asked, as he snuggled into John’s warm embrace, relishing the feel of the older man’s arms holding him close.

Looking down at the top of Paul’s head, John asked, “Got what?”

“The glasses.”

With a puzzled look on his face, John glanced towards the round frames briefly before answering, “I thought I told you about them.”

“I think I would’ve remembered you mentioning something like that,” Paul retorted sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

Shrugging, John replied, “Oh, I thought I did. Anyway, I got them when we first started filming. Dick felt they’d give the character a nice touch.”

“They suit you,” the younger man said with an appreciative nod, his fingers lightly trailing up and down the arms that encircled him.

Smiling, John kissed the top of Paul’s head before responding, “Ta, love.”

“So, when did you get in?”

Looking at the clock on the wall, John replied, “Oh, about an hour ago.”

With a surprised look, Paul pushed himself off John’s chest and turned to face the other man. “An hour ago?” he asked in amazement. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Why should I be?” John answered with a shrug.  
Crossing his legs and sitting across from the supine guitarist, Paul responded with a laugh, “What did you do? Drop Cyn and Julian off at the house and then drive immediately here?”

“Actually,” John began matter-of-factly, as he sat up and leaned against the headboard. “I had Anthony take them home from the airport. I took a taxi straight here.”

Paul shot him an incredulous look in response.

“What? I wanted to see you!” the older man exclaimed. Reaching over, John pinched Paul on the cheek as he continued, “I missed my little Macca.”

Laughing, the younger man batted John’s hand away as he said, “I missed you too, love. Though I have to admit,” he continued contritely. “I do feel badly for Cyn. I can’t believe you just abandoned her like that. Again.”

“Well, if you’d rather I went home…” John trailed off, eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Don’t even think about it,” Paul replied with a playful growl. Reaching out for the older man, he pulled John close as he whispered, “It’s been too fucking long.”

And grabbing John’s face between his hands, Paul kissed the older man fiercely, months of separation fueling the simple action. Fingers tangling in the older man’s auburn hair, Paul gently sucked John’s lip into his mouth, his tongue running along the inside before moving against John’s. The younger man pulled himself onto John’s lap, his legs immediately wrapping around the older man’s waist as his mouth moved roughly across John’s.

With a groan, John fisted the hem of Paul’s shirt, nearly ripping the fabric as the other man began to move against him, the movement of Paul’s hips creating a lovely friction against his hardened cock. The older man broke the kiss with a moan, head falling back and exposing his neck to Paul’s hungry gaze. Leaning forward, the younger man trailed his tongue leisurely along the side of John’s throat, immediately bringing forth a low groan from the older man.

Desperately, John tried to pull Paul’s shirt off, but the younger man evaded him, breaking the kiss instead as he moved away with an impish grin, much to his partner’s dismay. John stared back at the other man with a glare, causing Paul to break out into fits of laughter, as he sat back on his knees, hands clutching his sides.

With a roll of his eyes, John grumbled, “You’re such a fucking tease,” as he laid back against the pillows and breathed heavily, hand pressed against his erratically beating heart. When his breathing was finally under control, John turned to the other man and grumbled, “That was fucking brutal, mate.”

Grinning, Paul leaned forward and patted the older man on the head, “Don’t be too upset, love. The night is still young.”

With a shake of his head, John curled onto his side, a pout on his face, “Be that as it may, no decent man would ever leave their mate hanging like that.”

When Paul made no indication that he was interested in resuming their previous activity, John sat back with a disappointed huff. Catching sight of Paul’s slightly smug look, John scowled before finally asking with a sigh, “So, how did you spend your last few months? How’s the classical music gig going?”

Face lighting up in excitement. Paul exclaimed, “It’s been bloody brilliant! George has been showing me the ins and outs of writing scores and the like, and it’s been a fucking blast.”

Nodding his head as he listened, John remarked, “Sounds like you’ve been busy.”

“Well, with you gone I suddenly had a lot of free time on my hands,” the younger man replied with a smirk. “No one demanding ever fucking minute of my time.”

With a self-indulgent grin, John folded his arms behind his head as he said proudly, “I am a handful, aren’t I?”

Rolling his eyes, Paul laughed as he lay on his side, “That you are.”

Reaching for Paul’s hand absently, John gently squeezed his fingers, sustaining the physical connection that each man craved.

“I missed you, you know,” John quietly said, as he turned towards the younger man.

Bringing John’s hand up to his lips, Paul echoed, “I missed you, too.”

With a pout, John sat up, eyes focused on the younger man’s face as he groused; “You should have come down with Ringo when I invited you two. We would have had a blast!”

“Somehow, I don’t think the three of us together unsupervised in a new country would be a good idea,” Paul retorted with a roll of his eyes, the beginnings of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“You wound me, Paul McCartney!” John gasped, his hand on his chest as an injured look crossed his face. “How dare you insinuate that I, John Lennon, am capable of bad behaviour?”

“Please,” Paul scoffed, “I’ve already heard all about your trip from Richie. I know what the Spanish air does to two Beatles on holiday.”

Eyes narrowing, John asked, “What have you heard?”

“I’m not saying a bloody word,” Paul shot back in a singsong voice, eyes twinkling with barely suppressed mirth.

“You’re not, huh?” John replied with a predatory look on his face.

Quick as lightning, the older man rolled Paul onto his stomach, causing the younger man to let out a surprised shriek as John jumped on his back.

“I’m guess I’m just going to have to get it out of you somehow,” John continued in a conversational manner, his knees pinning the younger man to the mattress.

Giggling madly, Paul breathed out, “Try me!”

As Paul’s slim body writhed between John’s legs, the playful look on his face was soon replaced by something else entirely. Dipping his head, he breathed in Paul’s heady scent, a mix of musky cigarette smoke and soap, with a faint hit of cologne. John’s nose nuzzled the collar of the other man’s pajama top aside and licked the exposed skin, taking pleasure in the taste on his tongue.

The first touch of John’s mouth caused Paul’s moving body to still, though his senses spiraled into overdrive. He bit back a moan as John fastened his lips on the fluttering pulse point in his throat, body arching toward the older man’s mouth. As Paul moved, however, he wasn’t the only one who benefitted.

“Fuck, Paul,” John moaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he felt the lower half of Paul’s body rub deliciously against him, causing the blood to rush in the opposite direction of his head. “You’re going to fucking kill me.”

Smirking, the younger man turned his face to the side as he whispered, “Now, we can’t have that, now can we? Do you want me to stop?”

With a growl, John slid off the younger man’s back as he flipped Paul over, staring briefly into the other man’s lust-filled gaze before crushing their mouths together. At once brutally passionate and loving, John ravaged the younger man’s lips with his teeth and tongue, nibbling, sucking, and licking, as Paul tangled his hands in John’s auburn hair, holding his head as close as humanly possible.

Moaning, the younger man broke the kiss, panting heavily as he loosened his grip in John’s locks and slowly pushed himself up. As soon as he was upright, Paul favoured the other man with a slow smirk, before pushing John onto his back and straddling his legs.

“I think I prefer being on top for this round,” Paul began conversationally, as he leaned forward and licked a molten path down John’s chest, causing the older man to hiss in pleasure. Rubbing the lower half of his body tantalizingly slow against John’s, the younger man continued, “What do you think, love?”

With lidded eyes, John looked up at the other man, a pained look on his face.

“You can do whatever the fuck you want, Macca,” he groaned. “As long as you keep doing what you’re doing.”

Smiling, Paul took one nipple into his mouth, blunt teeth scraping against it lightly before sucking it diligently and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bit, driving John to greater heights of arousal. With a moan, the older man arched his body of the bed, giving Paul even greater access to his lightly muscled chest. His hands moving restlessly, John grabbed hold of the younger man’s waist, fingers travelling underneath the fabric, aching for a touch of the smooth skin. His position, however, made the task difficult, and with a low whimper John began tugging at the offending garment, desperate to rid his partner of it.

Laughing, Paul slapped the other man’s hands away, “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, love,” he whispered with a wink. “I’ll get that for you.”

And with nimble fingers, Paul quickly undid the buttons and soon had the top sailing to the floor before looking down at the older man’s semi-clothed state, and stating, “We really have to do something about this.” And before John could grasp what had happened, the younger man had already divested him off his checkered boxers.

Grinning, Paul descended upon John hungrily, sliding down his body and leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. Once he reached his destination, Paul licked the underside of John’s jutting shaft, causing a pronounced shiver to run down the older man’s back.

“Fucking hell,” John moaned low, his eyes closing at the touch of Paul’s mouth, head rolling from side to side on the pillow.

With a rapacious leer, Paul locked gazes with the older man, as he alternated running his tongue along John’s length with slow and steady sucking, the older man’s heavy breathing and moans the only sound in the room. Pairing his hand with the steady movement of his mouth brought John close to orgasm, and as Paul readied himself, John snapped open his eyes and struggled to sit up.

“Wait,” he groaned, as he quickly stopped Paul’s ministrations with a hand to his head.

Lifting his gaze, the younger man threw the other man a puzzled frown, the look fading quickly when John pulled him closer with the waistband of his boxers. The older man’s hand slipped inside and palmed Paul’s cock, the action answered with a throaty groan. The warm, calloused hand moved steadily up and down Paul’s hardened shaft, using the beads of pre cum at the tip as lubricant.

Looking up into Paul’s half-lidded eyes, John said with a smirk, “Well, carry on then.”

Eyes crossing in pleasure, the younger man fell on John once more, wet mouth encircling the older man, his tongue swirling around the tip as he bobbed his head in time to John’s hand movements. Paul moaned around the older man’s cock, the vibrations from his throat sending delicious shivers down John’s spine, causing the older man to come with a groan into Paul’s mouth, the younger man coming soon after, coating John’s hand with his warm essence.

Both men collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily and faces flushed. With a satisfied moan, Paul crawled up the bed and lay down alongside John, head pillowed on the older man’s shoulder. Reaching over quickly, John wiped his sticky hand on the discarded pair of boxers before wrapping his arms tightly around the younger man and placing a kiss on his sweaty brow. Eyes slowly falling shut, the two men lay together in a jumble of pillows and limbs, all tangled up between the sheets.

As Paul began to doze off, John forced himself into consciousness, looking down at the younger man with a slightly scared look before dispelling the sudden onslaught of nervousness with a shake of his head.

With a deep breath, John stammered, “I brought you something.”

“Mmm?” the younger man murmured sleepily, eyes closed and a faint smile playing along his lips.

“I, uh, picked something up for you in Spain,” John said softly, as he leaned sideways over the edge of the bed and picked something off the floor. He took another deep breath to calm his nerves before dropping a small black box in Paul’s lap.

As the object fell with a thump, Paul sat up suddenly alert, his gaze moving from the box to John’s nervous face in surprise. His fingers ran across the smooth, black surface before picking it up, the little box nearly weightless in his palm.

Just as Paul began to lift the lid, John quickly cut in. “It’s not much,” he said. “But I thought that you might like it.”

And as Paul opened the box, his eyes widened at its contents, and with a look of wonder on his face, the dark-haired man pulled a simple ring from within. A thin white gold band etched with a delicate floral pattern, that shimmered as it caught the light from the bedside table. It looked old, antique and lovely.

Unable to turn away from Paul’s face, John said, “I saw it in a little shop in Almeria during one of my trips into town. I walked by and saw it in the window and I knew I had to get it. The man said it’s pretty old, from the Art Deco period, or some such rot. I wasn’t really paying attention,” he finished with a half-hearted shrug

Eyes bright, Paul turned to John and said with a smile. “It’s lovely.”

Nervousness taking hold again, John gestured towards the ring as he asked softly, “May I?”

Unwilling to part with the ring just yet, Paul gave the other man an irritated look, “You can’t have it back, you know.”

Rolling his eyes, John retorted, “I don’t want it back, you wanker. Will you just hand it over?”

With a suspicious look on his face, the younger man stared back, eyebrows raised as he dropped the ring in John’s upturned palm. However, before Paul could move his hand away, John grasped it tightly, holding it briefly as he internally warred with himself.

Then with a shaky sigh, he slipped the ring over Paul’s finger.

“I know we can’t get married or anything, on account that I am, unfortunately, already married,” John began with a short laugh. Looking up into Paul’s face with a grin he continued, “And, well, because we’re both blokes. But I thought that if things were different, we could you know…”

“Are you proposing to me, Mr. Lennon?” Paul interrupted with a grin as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the older man’s.

“I…” John began, seemingly at a loss for words. Then looking into Paul’s face he smiled, the happiness radiating from his mate giving him the nerve to continue. “I guess I am.”

“Well, I accept,” the younger man replied as he placed a kiss on John’s nose before pulling back and draping himself across his lap.

“Oh. Well, good,” the older man responded, relief evident in his voice as he looked down at Paul’s upturned face. Chuckling softly, John continued, “That was certainly a different experience from the last time. I didn’t know how much better it would feel to not be forced into it.”

With a grin, Paul retorted, “Well, you’re damn lucky that I can’t get pregnant, otherwise you’d have another mess on your hands.”

Holding up his slightly sticky hands, John smirked, “I think I already do, love.”

“Yeah, about that…” Paul trailed off with a grimace as he moved off the older man’s lap, nose wrinkled slightly.

Rolling his eyes, John shot back, “I did wipe my hands, you know.” However, after receiving a pointed look from the younger man, he got off the bed, grumbling the entire way to the bathroom. “Fucking hell.”

Padding barefoot across the hardwood floors, he turned on the bathroom light with a flick of the wrist, eyes squinting at the sudden brightness. Shaking slightly, John gripped the sides of the vanity, his face ashen as he looked into the mirror.

“I can’t believe I did that,” the older man murmured with an incredulous look on his face. “And,” John continued, face breaking into a slight smile, “I can’t believe he fucking said yes.”

Shaking his head in amazement, he breathed a sigh of relief as he repeated softly, “I can’t believe he said yes.”

“John!” Paul called from the bedroom, breaking through the older man’s reverie. “What the fuck is taking you so long?”

“Keep your knickers on!” John bellowed back, before quickly adding with a smirk, “Actually, never mind. Keep them off!”

And with one last look in the mirror, John quickly washed his hands and stepped into the hallway as he turned out the light, throwing the bathroom into complete darkness.


	11. “I Do” – Chapter XI | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XI.**

“She was just fucking barmy, you know?”

Looking up with a bored look, Paul stared at the other man briefly, a mixture of confusion, anger, fear and jealousy warring on his features. He quickly turned away and resumed plunking the strings on his acoustic guitar, trying to give off a disinterested vibe, lest he convey what he was really feeling. With a shaky sigh he picked up a pencil and glared at the notebook in front of him, the clean white page silently mocking his incurable bout of writer’s block. When the words would not come, Paul threw the pencil back down as he went back to strumming random chords, trying desperately to find the note that would spark him into a creative frenzy.

On the other side of the room, John continued to speak animatedly, the piano in front of him all but forgotten as he embellished his story with wild hand gestures.

“I mean, I walk into the bloody gallery and she had no fucking idea who I was!” he exclaimed in disbelief. “Can you fucking imagine that?”

With an impatient sigh, Paul finally looked up. “No, I can barely contain my disbelief at such a notion,” he intoned with a roll of his eyes. “Now will you please fucking shut up? Some of us are trying to work here.”

To signal the end of the conversation, Paul turned away and lowered his head, eyes focused solely on the blank sheet of paper in front of him as he resolutely refused to meet John’s startled gaze.

Eyes wide, John stared in shock at his mate’s harshly spoken words, brow furrowing at the unexpected outburst. As he shook his head to dispel the bout of surprise, John’s lips curled into a sneer as he spat, “What the fuck is your problem?”

Not bothering to look up, the younger man replied with a sigh, “Nothing’s my problem, John. I’m just trying to finish a song here.” Raising his head, Paul tilted his head to the side as he asked in a slightly mocking tone, “Isn’t that why you came over?”

Rising halfway off his seat, John opened his mouth to rip into the other man, fully intending to give Paul a piece of his mind. However, when he felt the nearly palpable waves of anger his partner emitted, John reluctantly changed his mind and slowly sat back down, a glazed look in his eyes.

“You know what?” he muttered, with a shake of his head. “Never mind.”

Unable to keep the venom out of his voice, Paul spat, “Fine,” eyes narrowing as he stared angrily at John.

“Fine,” the older man echoed tiredly, as he rubbed his face with one shaking hand.

And all conversation immediately ceased.

As John sat on the piano bench, his calloused fingers tickling the ivories as his bare feet manipulated the pedals below, his mind was in a constant whirr, his conversation with Paul replaying itself in his head over and over again. Confusion warred with irritation, and the music that his fingers created reflected his mood.

Across the room, turning his back slightly on the other man, Paul remained cross-legged on the floor, shoulders trembling slightly as he hunched of over his guitar. With his instrument balanced precariously on his knee, he continued his previous exercise, playing a few chords despondently as he glared at the notebook in front of him. Every so often, he’d lift his head slightly, mouth opening to speak, but try as he might, Paul could not bring himself to speak to the other man. For the first time in a long time, he was wholly unable to express his feelings, to tell John exactly what was bothering him. Instead, Paul chose to remain silent, feeling more alone than he had in a long time.

As a result, the room was dreadfully tense, each man forcing their gaze downwards and fighting the urge to glance up at the other person lest they get caught looking. The two men played for their own benefit, simple and harsh melodies, that somehow worked fairly well together when melding in the air above.

Suddenly John hit a particularly discordant chord, shattering the tenuous peace as he abruptly jumped up from his seat.

“This is a fucking waste of time,” he growled, as he stepped away from the piano, pulling on his discarded coat as he stomped towards the door. “I’m getting out of here.”

Face blank, Paul looked up and called out with a shrug, “Suit yourself. It’s not like you were contributing anything decent to the song anyway.”

Halfway through the door, John whirled around at Paul’s scathing comment, snapping, “What the fuck is your problem?” through gritted teeth.

Paul slowly got to his feet, the guitar falling by the wayside and landing with a thump on the thick carpet. Noting the look of rage etched into the younger man’s naturally cherubic face, John backed up unconsciously as Paul advanced on him.

“You want to know what my bloody problem is?” Paul growled, eyes flashing angrily and hands clenched tightly at his sides. “You are. You and your fucking incessant yammering. You’ve been telling the same bloody story all week long.” Eyes boring into the older man’s, Paul leaned in close and continued in an angry whisper, “I’d rather shoot myself than hear about how you offered to pay an imaginary 5 shillings to hammer in an imaginary nail again. I mean, what the fuck? Is that supposed to be clever?”

Eyes flashing, John sneered as he pushed the other man back, causing Paul to stumble backwards.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Paul. I forgot that I was speaking to the fucking artsy Beatle,” John retorted in a raised voice as he pushed forward, his long strides taking him across the room in a matter of seconds. “The connoisseur of the bloody Avant Garde. Is my taste in art not up to your standards, love?”

“Art?” Paul scoffed as he straightened, his face level with the older man’s. “Is that what they’re calling trash these days?”

Sneering, John shot back, “If it’s good enough for your bloody friends…”

“I’m really going to have to have a talk with John, Peter, and Barry about that,” the younger man retorted with a smirk, as he turned away in a dismissive gesture.

Sighing in exasperation, John ground out, “You’ve been the one dying to get me over there, and the minute I try it out on my own, you fucking lose it.”

“I wouldn’t have to fucking lose it if you weren’t fucking smitten with the bird,” Paul shouted, the look of fury apparent on his face as he turned around.

“Wait,” John stammered, face a picture of surprise. “Smitten? How fucking insane are you?”

Paling, Paul immediately shut his mouth and started to walk away as he cursed his stupidity and loose lips under his breath. However, his flight was immediately impeded by the tight grip on his arm, John’s fingers wrapping themselves painfully around his forearm. Afraid to look up, Paul stared at John’s hand instead, absently marveling at the way his skin turned a dull shade of purple under the older man’s grasp.

“Do you honestly think that I’m into this bint?” John asked with a tilt of his head, gaze locked on the younger man as the edge in his voice subsided slightly and curiosity took its place.

Taking a deep breath, Paul braved a quick glance into John’s face, averting his eyes hastily as he muttered dolefully under his breath, “I really don’t know what to think.”

“Then you’re fucking crazier than I’ve given you credit for,” the older man snorted as he released his grip on Paul and ran a shaky hand through his tousled hair.

Rubbing his arm, Paul fixed a steely gaze on the older man, a jealous rage apparent on his face.

“You know what, John?” the younger man ground out, lips pursed into a thin line. “I’m fucking sick and tired of you and your fucking issues. You’re always out looking for the next best thing, the one person who will make the pain stop and fucking save you from yourself.” Poking the older man painfully in the chest, Paul advanced on John and backed him up into the wall; his glare seeming to dare the other man to move away as he continued with a growl, “Do you know how many of these people I’ve seen go in and out of your life? First there was your mum, then Stu and Cyn. You built up every single one of them until they either disappointed you or they left you, whether intentionally or not. And who was here to pick up the bloody pieces?” Breathing heavily and face flushed, Paul backed away and pointed towards himself, the menacing growl in his voice softening into a plea. “Me. I’m here. I’ve always been here. But the minute something better comes along, you get obsessed and I get discarded, until it’s time to put fucking Humpty Dumpty back together again.”

Eyes narrowing, John pushed himself off the wall, his gaze locked on the younger man’s dejected expression, as he took a step forward, fully intending to shake some sense in Paul. However, seeming to change his mind mid-step, John stopped, the space between them feeling longer than a few feet.

“God, will you fucking listen to yourself?” the older man spat, an expression of revulsion on his face.  
“Do you even realize how foolish you sound?” Shaking his head helplessly, John stared at Paul hard, causing the younger man to squirm under the intense gaze. “How many times have I told you that I love you?” the older man continued with a sigh. “Did I not give you a fucking ring? How can you even think that I’m going to discard you? Especially for this ugly broad.”

With a shrug, Paul shot back, “Things change.”

“Not this,” John disagreed with a shake of his head. “Not us.”

Looking helplessly at the older man, Paul whispered, “You don’t know that. You can’t know that,” his eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Well, fuck me, Paul,” John replied softly, the anger in his voice replaced with a touch of sadness. “Even after everything that we’ve been though, after reassuring you time and time again that you are the person that I want to spend the rest of my life with, you continue to doubt me.” Sighing, the older man said, “Maybe you just don’t know me at all.”

And with one last look, John left the room, leaving Paul behind, the younger man’s pained gaze trained on the empty doorway.


	12. “I Do” – Chapter XII | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XII.**

“Are you all right?”

John slowly looked up, the shaky voice pulling him from his pained trance, eyes rimmed in red behind slightly fogged up glasses immediately landing on a face looking equally as downtrodden as his own. With a shake of his head, the auburn-haired man lowered his eyes, the miserable look on his face growing increasingly pronounced as the seconds ticked by.

Sitting down clumsily on the grass behind the university hall, Paul expelled a shaky breath as he covered his face in his hands, shoulders trembling slightly as tears ran down his cheeks. Hours of crying had done nothing to ease the sorrow, and when John curled his body into the younger man’s side, the earnest sobbing started anew. Paul’s arms instinctively hugged the older man’s waist and pulled his slender frame closer, allowing John to rest his head on his shoulder.

The two men sat silently for a while, the warmth of the sun beating down on their heads as the faint sounds of the press and half-crazed fans wafted over to their somewhat secluded area, their faces hidden by a bend in the large building behind them, walls of brick and mortar acting as a much appreciated barrier from the outside world.

Neither was quite yet ready to face the prying questions and curious eyes.

Expelling a shaky breath, John looked over at the younger man, his normally brash voice subdued as he said, “It’s all a bit much, isn’t it? He was fine just yesterday, in unusually high spirits, in fact. But today…” he trailed off as he turned his head away, a choked sob stilling his words.

“I know, love,” Paul whispered softly as he placed a kiss in the older man’s hair. Closing his eyes as he tilted his head forward and rested his chin atop John’s head, he continued with a hushed, “I know.”

An uneasy silence descended again, each man lost in his own thoughts as the news that they had received that morning played through their heads.

“You don’t suppose he suffered a lot, do you?” John asked quietly, eyes closing at the painful images his imagination created.

With his eyes downcast, Paul absently ripped blades of grass out of the damp earth as he stammered in response, “I … I don’t know. I think they said that it happened after he had gone to sleep.”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” John replied with a shake of his head as he pulled away, turning his head to face the younger man. With a grimace, he continued, “I just meant in general.”

With a look of confusion on his face, Paul asked, “What do you mean?”

“Well, he wasn’t the happiest of blokes, was he?” the older man replied with a slight shrug, the expression on his face bellying his rather matter of fact body language.

Rubbing a tired hand over his face, Paul turned away, his gaze settling on an unknown point in the distance as he replied softly, “No, not really. Not in the last few years anyway.”

“You don’t suppose it was our fault, do you?” John asked in a choked voice, hands gripping Paul’s arm tightly. Swallowing hard he tried to get his voice under control, speaking in a more even, if slightly hushed, tone when he continued. “We fucking abandoned him, practically stripped him of his duties when we stopped touring. Every thing that we did afterwards was to show him that we no longer needed him.”

Shaking his head, Paul quickly replied in a soothing voice, “John, no. Don’t even think like that! How could we have possibly known?”

Voice starting to tremble again, John tightened his grasp on the arms that encircled him, eyes shutting against the fresh batch of tears as he murmured, “But we knew that he was drinking too much, taking too many pills, gambling his money away, and getting involved with men who did nothing but beat and rob him!” Body shaking, he cried, “We all knew that he was fucked up.”

Pulling back, Paul turned the older man around to face him and with a finger underneath his chin, the younger man raised John’s lowered head and looking straight in his eyes, Paul said softly, “How were we to know that he was going to die?”

Turning away, John sat back on his knees, the damp earth cool on his legs through the fabric of his bellbottom trousers. The two men fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts as the implications of what happened began to really sink in. Suddenly, face crumpling into a look of pure anguish, John began sobbing in earnest, startling the younger man as he watched his mate fold in on himself, head sandwiched between his legs as his body moved to and fro.

“He loved me,” John said between sobs. “He loved me and I repeatedly rejected him, just because it fucking amused me.”

Swallowing hard, Paul reached forward, “John…”

“No!” the older man exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, body trembling as he stood over the younger man, dark eyes staring into hazel. “I fucking led him on, letting him wine and dine me, take me on trips, and all I did was use him and fucking rip into him everyday. Flouting his authority at every turn, being a fucking prick to the poor guy.”

Reaching towards the distressed man, his hands grabbing hold of John’s, Paul called out, “Stop it, John! You can’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah?” the older man bit out as he shook of his mate’s grasp. Backing away slightly, he continued in an unsteady voice, “But what if it is? How can we know for sure? How can we know that we didn’t kill him? That I didn’t kill him?”

Falling to his knees, the dark-haired man broke in two.

Crawling over to John, Paul placed a tentative hand on the sobbing man’s shoulder, squeezing it gently as he said, “It’s not your fault, love. Don’t ever blame yourself for something you couldn’t even hope to control.”

John threw himself into the younger man’s arms, immediately burying his face in Paul’s neck, inhaling the younger man’s unique scent as he held on for dear life. Breathing ragged and body shaking, John raised his face and kissed the other man tearfully, oblivious to the picture that they presented. Lips slanted, tongues dueled, and breathing grew increasingly ragged.

Through the kiss they took comfort in each other, consequences be damned.

Suddenly Paul’s arms tightened around the other man, and John could feel alien tears against the side of his face. A shudder went through the younger man, and with a gasp he broke the kiss as he quickly turned his face away.

“Is it horrible that I feel slightly relieved that he’s gone?” Paul asked in a hoarse whisper eyes refusing to meet John’s shocked gaze.

The older man stared openmouthed at the downturned head of his mate, voice suddenly gone. Clearing his head with a shake, John reached towards the other man, hand falling weakly to his side when Paul turned his tearstained face around.

“I was just so fucking afraid,” the younger man choked out in a pained whisper. “We all knew how much he wanted you and the two of you have always had this fucking intense history.”

With a shake of his head, Paul stood as he ran a hand through his hair, gaze refusing to land on the man beside him, lest he see the disgust he knew was swirling in John’s dark eyes.

Voice hoarse, he continued “I could never bring myself to fucking trust him; to let him do what he thought was appropriate without questioning his every fucking move.” Face twisted in a mixture of self-loathing and guilt, Paul finally turned to face the seated man as he murmured, “I was just so fucking angry. Angry that he loved you and so bloody jealous that you loved him back. I just couldn’t see past that.”

Standing up, John pulled the other man into his arms, holding the other man tightly as he whispered in his ear, “Fucking hell! And I thought I was possessive.”

Pulling back he fixed the other man with a serious look, forcing the other man to stare back miserably.

“Listen to me, Paul,” John continued. “Nothing ever happened.” After receiving a pointed look from the younger man, John rolled his eyes and said with a rueful smile, “Except for that kiss and that trip to Spain, but that was fucking years ago. You’re the one. You have no reason to feel jealous of anyone else.”

Resting his forehead against the other man’s, Paul whispered, “I know. I just kinda love you, you know.”

“Well, I kinda love you, too,” John replied with a quick kiss. “So stop it.”

Tears slowly drying up, a more comfortable silence descended between the two men as they broke apart, eyes quickly scanning the surrounding area for interlopers as they slowly inched away from each other. Standing side by side, their shoulders just barely touching, John turned to Paul with a sigh.

“Fuck, what are we going to do without him?” he said with a shake of his head. “The band is going to fucking implode.”

Slapping John lightly on the arm, Paul retorted, “Don’t say that. We’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

“And what if we’re not?”

With a shrug, the younger man replied, “Then we’re not. As long as you and I are together, what else matters?”

Smiling slightly, John turned towards Paul and kissed him quickly on the cheek, causing the younger man to push him away with a laugh.

“We should really stop all this crying nonsense though,” Paul commented, with a tilt of his head. “You know what the Maharishi said. We must keep our thoughts about him happy.”

Rolling his eyes, John snorted, “He’s a fucking nutter. How anyone can laugh so much is beyond me.”

“You don’t think he’s…?” Paul trailed off, as he mimed taking a drag of a joint.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” the older man replied with a short laugh. “No one is ever that happy without some herbal encouragement.”

Laughing, Paul tugged on John’s sleeve, pulling him towards the back entrance of the hall as he said, “Let’s find the other lads. We should probably see how they’re faring.”

“Can we find a bar around here?” the older man asked hopefully as he brushed Paul’s fingers off his sleeve, clasping it in his hand instead. “I feel a drink is in order.”

Looking down at their entwined hands, Paul raised an eyebrow at John’s bold move before replying with a shrug, “Yeah, we’ll give Brian a proper send off.

As they walked back towards the throng of people inside the hall, John softly whispered, “I’ll really miss him, you know.”

“So, will I, love,” Paul whispered back. “So will I.”

And with their hands clasped tightly together, the two men entered the university hall, the double doors swinging shut behind them.


	13. “I Do” – Chapter XIII | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XIII.**

“And that is the purpose of Transcendental Meditation, to find your own path to god through personal reflection and achieving inner peace.”

Rolling his eyes at the melodic and heavily accented voice, John poked Paul in the side surreptitiously, causing the younger man to turn and throw him a stern look. Looking back innocently at first, John suddenly twisted his face into a horrible grimace, trying to get Paul to laugh. With a grin, the younger man shook his head in amusement before turning back around, the ever studious Beatle letting his old ways get the better of him.

Sighing, John began to fidget, restless fingers pulling at the loose threads on the rug that he sat on, his eyes darting from one corner of the canopy under which the group had assembled to the other. Though the heavy material overhead blocked the sun’s harmful rays from burning their fair skin to a crisp, it did nothing to stop the full on assault that the Indian heat had enacted, and with a scowl, John pulled at the corner of his  _kurta_ , the embroidered off-white material sticking to his back uncomfortably. He longingly looked out at the shimmering lake in the distance, a smile pulling at his lips as he imagined himself and Paul indulging in a little nude midnight swim.

Turning to his mate again, John prodded the younger man in the side once more, incurring a second glare. Giggling, John turned away with a roll off his eyes, beginning to hum to himself before leaning over and whispering to the woman on his right. Eyes widening, the brunette choked on a laugh, erupting into a sudden coughing fit to mask the sound but only succeeding in making herself more noticeable.

Startled by the harsh noise, the people under the canopy turned towards the pair, eyes narrowing in suspicion at John’s angelic expression as the young woman at his side blushed in embarrassment.

“Prudence,” the slight Indian man called out from the front with a giggle. “Though it’s nice of you to finally join us, a little quiet would be nice.”

Lowering her head, Prudence turned a bright red, as she mumbled, “Sorry, Maharishi. It won’t happen again.”

With a slight nod, the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi continued his lecture, however by this time, even Paul was restless. Shoulders slouched as he worried a fingernail between his teeth; Paul looked around him, smiling at the few people who happened to catch his wandering gaze. Grinning at Ringo’s look of absolute boredom, he favoured the drummer with a wink before turning back around, intending to pay attention once more.

However, when nothing being said particularly interested him, Paul turned towards John and placing a hand on the older man’s knee, he leaned sideways and whispered in his ear, “Where’s Cyn?”

Head tilted towards the younger man, John replied, “She wasn’t feeling too well. Bloody Indian weather, you know. She’s having a lie down in the room.”

Mouthing an “Oh,” Paul straightened and reluctantly moved his hand away for propriety’s sake. Though he would much rather keep his hand on John’s knee, fingers lightly caressing the tightly coiled muscles. With a shake of his head, Paul berated himself under his breath before focusing on the lecture again.

Time moved along slowly, though what felt like hours were probably only minutes. The sun overhead dipped lower, and though the mugginess did not dissipate, at least the intensity with which the sun beat down on the earth had lessened somewhat. Paul and John continued to pay attention, or at least give the impression that they were, as the older man slapped agitatedly at the mosquitoes, the insistent little buggers leaving red welts all over his skin.

“Does anyone have any general questions?”

Breaking out of his trance, John suddenly perked up, his back straightening as he began to prod frantically at the woman beside him, giving her a pointed look. Noticing the sudden flurry of movement, Paul turned towards the older man, curiously watching John’s antics with a raised eyebrow.

“You said you’d ask!” John hissed under his breath, as he badgered Prudence.

Huffing impatiently, Prudence shot back, “Why don’t you do it?”

“Because I don’t want to,” the guitarist whispered, eyes narrowing slightly. Pleading, John continued, “Please, you promised!”

Sighing tiredly, Prudence raised her hand, much to the delight of the Maharishi, who promptly called on her.

“Sir, I know that this is off topic,” the young woman began, as she threw John an irritated look. “But I was wondering if you could explain Indian wedding customs to us.”

With a look of surprise on his bearded face, the old man sat forward, his hands on his knees as he replied, “Well, that is an odd question.” Tilting his head to the side, the Maharishi asked, “Why the sudden interest?”

At the same time, both Paul and Prudence threw looks at the Beatle between them, the former looking slightly suspicious while the latter simply looked annoyed.

“Oh,” Prudence stammered, as she turned to address their teacher. “I was just curious.”

With a shrug, the Maharishi leaned back against his many embroidered cushions, the ever-present smile on his face as he consented, “Well, all right. Why don’t you come up, and we can put on a demonstration?”

“Oh, no, sir. I couldn’t possibly!” Prudence protested wildly as she turned slightly pale. Turning towards John, she pointed an accusatory finger, exclaiming, “I just asked because John wanted me to! I never actually wanted to be a part of it!”

“Nonsense,” the Maharishi said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Giggling almost maniacally, the old man clapped his hands with excitement as he said, “This will be fun!”

Slowly rising to her feet, Prudence threw John an angry glare as she moved forward to sit by the Maharishi, a slight look of nausea on her face.

“Okay, now for the groom,” the bearded man cried out, practically bouncing up and down on his seat.

Hand instantly raised, John started waving it wildly in the air “Me sir, me sir!! Pick me! Pick me!!”

The group laughed at John’s enthusiasm, rolling their eyes at his usual abundance of exuberance. As the Maharishi nodded his assent, the guitarist jumped up and ran to the front, weaving in and out of the seated individuals. With a grin, he plopped down beside the Maharishi, immediately grabbing hold of the uncomfortable Prudence’s hand and giving it a long kiss, much to the amusement of the assembled group.

Shaking his head at John’s antics, the Maharishi started with “Okay, the first thing…”

His sentence trailed off as the young woman stood, shaking her head as she started to back away.

“Please, pick someone else,” she said quickly, as she turned to flee. “I really don’t want to be a part of this.” And with one last glare at John, Prudence left, ignoring the calls of people she left behind.

With a perplexed look, Maharishi said, “Well, I suppose we need to find ourselves another bride…”

“How about Paulie?” John piped in with a grin, as he pointed out his mate. With a smirk he added, “With those eyelashes and full lips, he looks enough like a girl to be the perfect bride!”

Everyone started to laugh, instantly changing the atmosphere of slight boredom to one of merriment. Even George, the more zealous of the Maharishi’s followers, was leaning into Pattie as he clutched his sides. Scowling, Paul simply stared around the canopy, fixing his friends with heated glares. As he looked up, he caught John’s gaze, the older man grinning wide before favouring the younger man with a wink.

“Well, that is a bit unorthodox,” the Maharishi said loudly, trying to be heard above the din. With a shrug he giggled, “But since it’s all in fun, come on up, Paul.”

Though at first he had planned to decline, Paul looked over at John and noting the hopeful look on the older man’s face, he slowly stood, causing the already chuckling crowd to fall about in another fit of laughter. As he walked to the front, he could hear hooting and hollering from the group behind him, to which he responded with the two fingered salute.

“Don’t listen to them, Paul,” Ringo called out cheekily. “I think you make a lovely bride!”

“Fucking wankers,” the bassist muttered under his breath as he shot John a glare. “You fucking owe me, mate.”

The guitarist simply grinned in response, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Once everyone was seated, the soon to be wedded couple across from each other, the Maharishi raised his hands for quiet. Smiling, he turned to John and Paul and before addressing the group as a whole.

“A traditional Hindu ceremony can last for days,” the Maharishi began with a smile, his heavily accented voice raised. “But since we don’t have that much time, I will be giving you the shortened version. They usually take place outside, under a canopy called a  _mandap_ , and people generally sit underneath with the sacred fire built in the center.”

Tipping his head back, John pointed towards the canvas overhead as he commented, “Well, we got the canopy part covered, don’t we?” With a grin, he asked “Shouldn’t we light a fire?”

Looking slightly puzzled, the Maharishi opened his mouth to speak, but was promptly cut off by John’s hurried response.

“Well, we should be authentic, right?” he said, looking much too innocent to be believed.

Staring at the younger man briefly, seeming to contemplate John’s response, before nodding with a slight shrug. Turning to the teenaged boy by his side, the Maharishi muttered low in Hindi, to which the boy nodded before quickly scurrying off. In a matter of minutes, he was back, along with two more servants, in their hands the ingredients for the sacred fire as well as a few other odds and ends, such as a coconut, garlands, rope, flowers, a pot of water, rice, and, finally, a bowl with suspicious looking red paste.

Once the fire had been lit, the heat of the flames uncomfortably warm on John and Paul’s faces, the Maharishi clapped his hands and gestured towards the things that had been laid before him.

“These are the necessary items for a traditional Indian wedding,” the Maharishi began, his accented voice carrying through the crowd. “Most of these I’m sure you all can recognize, but the red paste here is known as kukum, and it will come into play later on. The only thing we’re missing are the rings…”

Hands suddenly rummaging through the pockets of his kurta, John called out frantically, “Wait!” With a grin he held out his hand, two gold wedding bands winking in the sunlight.

With identical looks of shock, the audience and the Maharishi stared back at the grinning man, to which he replied with a shrug. “What? I just happened to have them on me!”

Looking somewhere between mortified and amused, Paul simply covered his face with his hands, unable to even speak in the face of John’s odd behaviour.

Shaking his head in mild amusement, the Maharishi cleared his throat as the group slowly fell silent, though the occasional snicker could still be heard.

“Once everything is in place,” the Maharishi said. “The priest begins by saying: We have come together to wed Paul, son of…”

With an expectant look, he turned to the younger man who quickly responded with “Jim and Mary,” eyes downcast and refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

“To John, son of…

Without being told twice, John said, very seriously, “Brian and Mildred.”

The Maharishi looked around in surprise when the members of their captive audience began to giggle, not understanding why they found the Beatle’s reply so funny. Rolling his eyes, Paul shook his head at John, who simply smiled back beatifically.

Shrugging, their teacher continued, “Today they build together the foundation of their marriage upon the earth, in the presence of the sacred fire and the radiant sun, among their family and friends.”

As the Maharishi spoke, Paul could feel John’s gaze on him, and lifting his head he was startled by the serious, almost nervous, look playing on the older man’s features. Catching John’s eye, the younger Beatle gave him a tentative smile, to which John responded with a full-fledged smirk, causing Paul to chuckle under his breath.

Hearing the soft laugh, the Maharishi glared at the two men, shushing them before speaking. “Now,” he began, his hands raised as if to conduct a choir. “Everyone sing,  _“Vignesh varaia varadaia sukhapriyaya. Yakundendutusharahara dhawala. Om sahana vavatu…”_

Their voices raised in song, the group gave the chant their best attempt, their tongues stumbling over the unfamiliar words.

“Bloody hell,” George called out with a smirk, after they were done butchering the tune. “That was some shitty singing coming out of a tent filled with musicians.”

Grumbling good-naturedly, the others pelted the youngest Beatle with cushions, causing him to hide behind Pattie, the pretty blonde laughing as she tried to pry his hands of her shoulders. Exchanging an amused glance, Paul and John picked up their cushions and lobbed it at the cowering guitarist as well, their actions immediately met with a yelp once their missiles met their target.

Glaring, George turned towards the smirking pair, fully intending to retaliate, but as soon as he had lifted a discarded pillow, the Maharishi raised his hands, gesturing for quiet.

“All right, children,” the Maharishi called out over the din. “It’s time we continued.”

Once they had quieted down and George had reluctantly lowered his weapon, the little Indian man continued.

“Paul,” he said, turning towards the bassist as he picked up one of the flower garlands. “Put this garland around John’s neck.” Gesturing towards the second one, he continued, “And John, you do the same to Paul with the other one.”

Reaching towards each other, the two men smiled shyly as they draped the flower garlands around their necks, their fingers touching lightly when they lowered their hands.

“At this point,” the Maharishi continued as he stood, signaling the two men to rise as well, “The bride’s parents, in this case, Paul’s, would wash the bride and groom’s feet, apply the  _kukum_ , this red paste here, and hand them flowers.” Kneeling, he poured water over John and Paul’s feet over a small bowl, before applying the red paste to their feet. Straightening, the Maharishi continued, “The parents would then address the audience and say: I approve the wedding of my son, Paul, to John.”

Whispering aloud, Donovan snickered, “Somehow, I doubt that!”

Before the Maharishi could ask the folksinger to be quiet, Mia Farrow reached over and slapped the dark-haired man upside the head, much to the amusement of all present. Glaring, Donovan rubbed the sore spot as he slowly inched away from the grinning young actress.

Turning back to John and Paul, the Maharishi said, “Now John, you would say: I, John, take you, Paul, into my heart as my wife.”

Reaching over and taking the younger man’s hand in his, John favoured Paul with a soft smile as he recited, “I, John, take you, Paul, into my heart as my wife.”

Before the Maharishi could direct his next move, Paul winked cheekily at John, giving his hand a quick squeeze as he echoed, “I, Paul, take you, John, into my heart as my husband.”

A short silence descended as the two men stared at each other intently, smiling slightly, their friends continuing to laugh at the mock wedding taking place before them.

For John and Paul, however, it actually meant something.

Breaking the silence, the Maharishi moved forward, John’s rings in the palm of his hand. “At this point,” he began, “The priest officiating the ceremony would say: A circle is the symbol of the sun and the earth and the universe. It is a symbol of holiness and of perfection and of peace. In these rings it is the symbol of unity, in which your lives are now joined in one unbroken circle, in which, wherever you go, you will always return to one another and to your togetherness.”

Placing one ring in each of their outstretched hands, the Maharishi instructed, “Now, exchange rings.”

Slipping the rings on each other’s fingers, John and Paul couldn’t keep the smiles of their faces, the two men erupting into a fit of giggles when the Maharishi wound a rope around their necks.

“Bloody hell,” Paul muttered sarcastically. “I knew that marriage signals the end of life as you know it, but I didn’t think that it was meant literally.”

Smirking, John pretended to tighten the rope around his neck as though it were a noose, inciting the others into a fit of laughter.

Ignoring the two men’s antics, the Maharishi continued as though he was uninterrupted, “This is the sacred rope, and once it has been wound around the couple, for all intents and purposes, they are considered married. Of course, that doesn’t mean that the ceremony is over yet.”

The group assembled groaned collectively, already antsy from having to sit still for so long and more than ready to stand up and stretch out their cramped legs.

His ever-present smile falling slightly, the Maharishi instead glared all around before saying, “At this point, a brother of the bride would pour rice in her hand…”

“I’ll do it!” George called out cheekily, interrupting the Maharishi’s spiel as he stood up, the others laughing as he picked up the cup of rice and poured it messily into Paul’s hand, stray white grains falling in the bassist’s lap instead.

With a roll of his eyes, Paul replied, “Gee thanks,” as he brushed the rice off his clothing with his free hand.

“Stand, stand!” the Maharishi commanded, as he jumped to his feet with an excited clap of his hands. “Now you have to pour that into the fire together.”

Exchanging an amused glance, John and Paul threw the rice into the flames, the fire dancing wildly with a whoosh of smoke when hit by the fluffy, white grains.

“At this point, the married couple would walk around the fire four times, alternating who leads,” the Maharishi began as he moved forward grasping the ends of Paul and John’s _kurtas_  and tying them together tightly.

“Hey!” John exclaimed. “What’s this all about?”

With a stern look on his face, the Maharishi simply pointed towards the fire in response, and with a sigh, the two man began their circular march, stumbling slightly as the rope and their tied clothing hindered their movements. At first Paul led, making two of the laps before the Maharishi had them switch places, allowing John to lead during the last two. As the older man walked in front, he turned slightly to catch Paul’s gaze, the giving the other man a loving smile and a lewd wink before facing the front again, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

All the while the Maharishi intoned, “Om Svaha! With the first turn, we pray for happiness in the union of the couple. Om Svaha! With the second turn, we pray for the long life of the couple. Om Svaha! With the third turn, we pray for the healthy life of the couple. Om Svaha! With the fourth turn, we pray for the happiness and health of the couple. “

As the four turns came to an end, the Maharishi signaled the two men to sit down again, this time side by side. With a sigh, Paul plopped down first, John following a second or two later. With puzzled looks, the two turned towards the suddenly giggling Maharishi, before turning towards each other with identical shrugs.

“It is usually believed that whoever sits first will be the boss in the marriage,” the little Indian man giggled, his tiny frame shaking in time to his laughs.

With a shout, Ringo said, “Hey, John! Maybe now someone will be able to get you under bloody control!”

“Shurrup, Richie!” John called back, grinning like a fool.

Standing yet again, the Maharishi raised his arms in the air as he said, “Now is the time to confirm the marriage with the seven final steps. Please stand.”

“Aye, this bloody standing up and sitting down is a fucking pain,” John groused as he got to his feet. “Would sitting down for more than five minutes at a bloody time be too much to ask?”

Ignoring John’s whining, the Maharishi continued, “I ask you, Paul and John, to concentrate upon these seven vows as you take the seven steps.”

Blindly reaching for each other, John and Paul held on tightly, eyes locked on their intertwined hands as they began to step in time to the Maharishi’s words.

“May the couple be blessed with an abundance of food. May the couple be strong and complement one another. May the couple be blessed with prosperity. May the couple be eternally happy. May the couple be blessed with children. May the couple live in perfect harmony. May Paul and John always be the best of friends.”

As the Maharishi’s speech came to an end, George called out, “May the bride and groom steal a kiss!”

As everyone laughed, John, with a raised eyebrow, shot back, “You daring me, Harrison?”

“What do you think?” came the response.

“Well, I’ve never been one to back out of a dare,” the older Beatle replied before leaning over and kissing Paul on the cheek.

As the younger man reddened, the group let out a cheer. Still smiling, John turned to Paul with a laugh as the younger of the two simply shook his head in amazement.

“I can’t believe you’d do that in front of everyone,” Paul hissed under his breath, just loud enough for John to head.

Before the older man could reply, the Maharishi stood, supported by one of his servants as he began the trek back to his bungalow.

Over his shoulder he said, “Class dismissed!” And with a wink, he added, “Let’s leave the newlyweds to themselves.”

Laughing, everyone stood and began filing out in ones and twos behind the white robbed figure, throwing out their own parting remarks.

“Our congrats to the happy couple!” Donovan said with a laugh, slapping John on the back as he walked past.

“Aren’t they lovely?” another voice called out. “The glow of love so apparent on their faces!”

“Where are you taking her, I mean, him, for your honeymoon?”

“Their kids will be beautiful!” Ringo called out as the group started heading inside, “Be sure to name one after me!”

As the tent emptied out, John and Paul remained standing, smiling somewhat shyly.

“You are fucking nuts,” Paul finally said with a shake of his head. “I can’t believe you allowed that to happen!”

Shrugging, John replied with a smirk, “And why not, my darling wife?”

“Hey now!” the younger man exclaimed as he slapped the other man upside head. “There will be no such remarks! It’s bad enough I had to be the bloody woman during the whole bloody thing!”

Rubbing the back of his head, John simply stuck his tongue out before retorting, “Whatever you say, dear. Besides, how do you know that I didn’t plan the whole thing?”

“Please,” Paul scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “How could you have possibly known that Prudence was going to run back to her room like that?

In lieu of responding, John simply stared back haughtily, arms crossed over his chest.

The moment that realization dawned could be pinpointed exactly on Paul’s face. Both his eyes and mouth widened at exactly the same time as he stared at the older man agog.

“You son of a bitch…” he breathed. “You really did plan the whole thing!”

Patting the younger man on the head condescendingly, John replied, “A bit slow today, aren’t you, Macca?”

Paul slapped John again, the older man retaliating with a pinch on his attacker’s bum, causing Paul to yelp in surprise.

“Come now, love,” John said with a laugh, as he wrapped a conspiratorial arm around the younger man’s shoulders, the two of them beginning to walk towards their bungalow. “We have much to discuss.”

Perfectly arched eyebrow raised, Paul turned to his mate and asked, “Do we now?”

“Well,” John began matter-of-factly. “As my wife, you will be responsible for certain duties. Such as the cooking, the cleaning, taking care of the little ones…”

“Little ones?” Paul parroted in disbelief. Giving the older man a wary look, he continued, “And how are we going to accomplish that?”

“We can figure that out later,” John replied as he waved away the younger man’s concern. “Now, your main duty will be to cater to my every whim. Anything I want, anytime I want it, it’s up to you to make it happen.”

Trying to fight back a grin at John’s haughty tone, Paul asked seriously, “And what exactly am I getting out of this whole thing?”

“Me, of course!” the older man replied with a roll of his eyes, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“You know, it seems like I’m getting the fucking raw deal here.”

Laughing, John pulled the younger man closer and dropped a kiss on his dark head as they neared the small cluster of dormitories, the whitewashed buildings standing in stark contrast to their bright green surroundings.

“Enough of this nonsense,” the older man said, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Have you forgotten that it’s our wedding night?”

With a coy smile on his face, Paul moved out from under John’s arm as they neared his door. Leaning back against it, he replied, “Is that right? And what plans do you have for us tonight, John?”

Hand resting on the door beside Paul’s head, John leaned forward and brushed his lips briefly against the younger man’s, not allowing himself to do more than that in such an exposed location.

That brief caress, however, was enough to send shivers down both of their spines.

“I’ll show you tonight,” John whispered into Paul’s ear, his breath hot against Paul’s skin.

And with one last parting smile, he turned and walked across the courtyard to his own room, leaving a panting Paul in his wake, the hazel eyes fixed on his retreating back.

 


	14. “I Do” – Chapter XIV | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XIV.**

“John…”

With a startled gasp, the man in question tripped over a cushioned footstool and landed on the shag carpet with a dull thud, groaning as his knee connected with said piece of furniture. Grimacing, John propped himself up with his palms flat against the soft rug, his head turning from side to side as he peered into the darkness, his ears perked up like a greyhound’s. When no other sounds could be heard, John cautiously got to his feet, wincing as his newly bruised knee sent a shot of pain through his leg.

Hearing the soft whisper of his name had disoriented John, hence the sudden bout of clumsiness, and like a fool he tripped and fell, thus creating more noise than he could afford. He had entered the room cockily, expecting the person cozily cuddled under the warm blankets to be fast asleep, not taking into consideration that he could still be awake.

Silently berating himself, John quickly brushed off his pants, eyes squinting behind round lenses as they stole a glance over at the messy bed. With a sigh of relief, John could just barely make out the steady rise and fall of Paul’s chest, accompanied by a light snore in the relatively quiet room. Guided by the dewy light streaming in between the curtains, the older man tiptoed over to the bed; his gaze making out Paul’s closed eyes, long eyelashes dark against fair skin.

Peering down at Paul’s sleeping face, an unexpected sigh of longing was ripped from deep within John’s chest and with his face falling, John sank down onto the edge of the soft bed. With his body twisted around, the older man allowed his gaze to linger on his old mate briefly, noting the curve of his cheek, the dull redness of his lips, and the bare shoulders peeking out from beneath the tangled blankets.

With a shake of his head, John reluctantly turned away, his eyes immediately seeking out the ornate clock on the wall, widening slightly at the time.

It was fucking 3 AM in the morning and the man known for his sleeping prowess was still unable to get a decent night’s sleep.

Rubbing his face tiredly, John rested his elbows on his knees and propped his face up, looking much like a melancholy schoolboy. Gazing around the room, he couldn’t help but notice the slight differences in the bedroom from the last time he had been there.

The perfume that hung in the air was the first thing that caught his attention. Gone was the slightly floral, yet sensual, scent of yore. In its place was something spicier, like a dash of cinnamon had just wafted through the room. The women’s clothes that were draped over the backs of the chairs and peeked through the open closet door were less Carnaby Street and more Bloomingdales. The old pictures of a lovely redhead were replaced by pictures of two blondes, a mother and a daughter smiling happily at the camera, Paul’s grinning sheepdog between them.

Frowning, John turned away, the sights and smells leaving a decidedly unpleasant taste in his mouth. With a slight glare, he tilted his head to the side and stared at the sleeping man again, the glare melting into a look of wistfulness. As he chewed on his bottom lip, John reached out towards Paul’s face, only to snatch it back quickly before his fingertips touched the warm skin. Cursing his own weakness, John turned back around with a huff, the frown deepening. Tapping his fingers nervously against his knee, indecision warred on the older man’s face, as he turned back slightly only to snap forward again.

Finally, with a shake of his head, John turned completely around and pulled his legs onto the bed, folding them underneath him as he got comfortable. Stare unwavering, he reached out again, this time his fingers hesitantly brushed the dark locks of hair away from closed eyes, ghosting against the warm skin as he trailed one finger down a slightly stubbled cheek.

When Paul failed to awaken, John grew bolder, his fingertips gliding across closed eyelids, over perfectly arched eyebrows, down the side of Paul’s nose. Pausing briefly, John let them lightly touch the younger man’s mouth, the pad of his thumb rubbing against the full bottom lip.

With a sigh, John stared longingly at Paul’s mouth, his mind vividly recalling the many times that he had kissed those lips, and been kissed in return. That bow-shaped mouth wrapping deliciously around his cock time and time again, the pink tongue darting out to lick the sensitive underside of his hardened shaft, before sucking in earnest.

Groaning, John closed his eyes, hand falling away as he gingerly adjusted himself, his semi-erect cock at a painful angle within his corduroy trousers. Glazed eyes opening slowly, John looked down at those lips again, and as the haze of unexpected arousal abated, his mind called up his most recent experiences with Paul’s delectable lips.

In the past few weeks, those lips that had once lovingly whispered into his ear now hurled epithets in his direction, painful, accusatory, and hurtful words. It felt like ages since those lips last kissed him with such passion that it blew him away. Now instead of getting a happy smile, they simply sneered.

Yet for some reason, Paul still excited him more than any other. More than the petite dark-haired woman he left sleeping in the guestroom downstairs could ever hope to.

John cared for her, of course, but looking at Paul, so innocent in sleep, he couldn’t help but forget why. This was the man whom he had loved for as long as he could remember, and at that moment John silently cursed himself for forgetting Paul, for forgetting all that they had meant to each other not too long ago.

Not allowing himself to think things through lest he dissuade himself, John stretched his legs out, and lay alongside the sleeping Paul, gingerly placing his arms around the younger man’s waist. Paul instinctively moved closer and curled into John’s side, face nuzzling in the crook of John’s neck.

Sighing, John gently caressed Paul’s face as he whispered, “God, I miss you, Macca.”

“John…” the younger man murmured sadly, face turning towards John’s touch. “Don’t go. Love you…” Paul trailed off, as his light snores started anew.

Body stiffening, John looked down in shock, startled by the sleepily spoken words. Tears gathering in his eyes, a slight smile spread across the older man’s face as he leaned forward and kissed Paul on the forehead before whispering back, “Love you, too. Always.”

Lying in bed with Paul, on the soft mattress that had been bought with the older man in mind, a delightfully sleepy feeling washed over John. With the younger man’s body pressed intimately against his own, his eyes began to flutter, and with a satisfied smile on his face, John buried his nose in Paul’s hair, basking in the familiar scent.

“I’ll get up soon,” he yawned to himself. Eyes closing as he sleepily murmured, “Just a few more minutes…”

Though it only felt like minutes since he had lain down, the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window told a different story entirely. Eyes squinting in the harsh rays, John shielded them quickly as he slowly swam into consciousness, the deep sleep leaving him slightly disoriented.

Sitting up as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the next thing John noticed was that he was alone, and slightly panicked, he threw his legs over the side of the bed intent on fleeing immediately.

His exodus, however, came to a screeching halt at the sound of coldly spoken words.

“Good morning, John.”

Nearly jumping out of his skin, the older man whirled around to find Paul sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. He was shirtless; a pair of worn flannel drawstring pants riding low on his narrow hips, while a steaming cup of tea sat on the table at his side, his fingers idly twirling a teaspoon.

Mouth falling open, John simply stared back for a minute, his eyes taking in the sight before him. He could feel the waves of anger emanating from the younger man, sparking an unaccustomed touch of fear.

With a gulp John stammered, “Uhhh… Good morning.”

Ignoring John’s reply completely, Paul tapped the spoon against the edge of the cup with a clink before laying it down, and lifting the cup to his lips he took a measured sip.

“You know, funny thing happened to me this morning when I woke up,” the younger man began conversationally as he lowered his teacup. The angry glint in his eyes, however, bellied the casual tone with which he spoke. “I found myself enclosed in a pair of rather muscular arms. Knowing instantly they couldn’t belong to Linda, and definitely not Jane, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out who would have the gall to simply lie down beside me in the middle of the night. Well, imagine my fucking surprise when I opened my eyes to see your bloody face.”

Unable to find his voice, John simply lowered his head, a red flush stealing over his features.

“So, tell me John,” the younger man continued, a hard edge coming into his voice. “What made you think that you were still fucking welcome in my bed?”

Gulping, John finally looked up. “Listen, Paul,” he pleaded. “If you’d just let me explain…”

“Explain what, John?” the younger man exclaimed angrily. “What masterful story are you going to concoct now?” Slamming his fist on the armrest, Paul sat forward aggressively, his voice a low growl as he continued, “This isn’t one of your fucking books, John. You can’t just give me a line of your usual bullshit and expect me to believe you. I’ve known you far too long to fall for that.”

Bristling at Paul’s words, John replied, “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” his defiant eyes trained on the younger man’s angry expression.

“Maybe I don’t,” the younger man replied with a shrug. “But I do know this, you can’t fucking come and go as you please anymore. You’ve lost that right.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Paul leveled the older man with a piercing glance, continuing, “And you can’t tell me that you want me in your life one day and then tell me to back the fuck off the next. I’m not your bloody toy!”

Rolling his eyes, John replied, “It’s not like that, Paul. Don’t be such a fucking tosser.”

“Then what did you mean, John?” Paul sneered, his hands bracing himself on the armrests on either side of him. “ _I’m with Yoko now, so, get used to it_.” Voice saccharine sweet, Paul tilted his head to side as he asked, “Isn’t that what you told us the other day in the studio? What else could you have possibly meant by that statement, John?”

Some of the bravado leeching out of his body, the shamefaced guitarist looked down, unable to come up with a reply.

“After that I don’t know how you had the fucking nerve to even show your face around here, let alone ask if the two of you could stay a few days,” Paul continued on with a shake of his head, unaware of the older man’s discomfort. With a mocking laugh, he added, “And like a fool, I let you back into my house. All because I can’t fucking get over you…”

Face paling at the slip of his tongue, Paul quickly stood and moved towards the door, body shaking as he sought a way out, unwilling and unable to face the other man after what he had just said.

Finding his voice, John called out, “I’ll always love you, Paul, whether you believe me or not.”

Stopping in his tracks with one foot already in the hallway, the younger man whispered in an emotionless voice, “Yeah, well, I highly doubt that.

“Fuck you, Paul,” John muttered under his breath as he took off his glasses and rubbed his face tiredly.

Turning around, the younger man glared at the older man and ground out, “What did you say?”

“You heard me. Fuck. You,” John sneered as he rose from the bed, hands curled into fists at his sides. Pointing his finger at the younger man he snapped, “You’ve always been such a fucking hypocrite, you know that? How dare you come down on me because of Yoko while you’ve got that bloody American bitch of yours?” Moving around the side of the bed, John advanced on Paul, nerves coiled tight as he stopped mere inches away from the younger man. “I know that you’re in love with her!” he half-screamed, “So don’t fucking try to make me feel bad about my relationship with Yoko.”

“So, what if I do, John?” Paul sneered, as he moved forward, closing the gap between the two men. “Why the fuck should you care if I love the woman or not?”

Body trembling with anger, John raised his hands as if to strike the younger man. Then in a move that surprised them both, he grabbed Paul around the shoulders and pulled him into a bruising kiss instead. John slanted his lips over the younger man’s, his tongue thrusting into Paul’s mouth forcibly. He bit down hard on Paul’s lower lip, eliciting a gasp that was somewhere between pain and pleasure. John’s hands traveled down the length of the younger man’s back, leaving deep scratches in their wake, as they moved towards Paul’s drawstring trousers, the fingers deftly inching past the waistband.

With a cry, Paul finally pushed John away, lips red and swollen from John’s kiss. Breathing heavily, he slowly backed away, pained eyes never leaving the shocked expression on John’s face.

“You can’t do that anymore, Lennon,” Paul said shakily between gasps of air. “You can’t just kiss me and hope that things will work themselves out. Whatever chance we may have had to fix this bullshit flew out the fucking proverbial window the day that you placed that bitch on a fucking pedestal.”

Eyes lowering, Paul stared at the floor, as he continued to speak, voice cracking slightly as his emotions started to take hold.

“So yes, I love Linda,” he whispered, close to tears. “I love her because she’s good to me and because she would never fucking discard me the way that you have over and over again.”

Paul suddenly raised his gaze, the look of pure pain and anger nearly knocking John off his feet. As he struggled to stand upright, John opened his mouth to speak. He was immediately cut off, however, as the younger man continued his rant.

“After all these years of loving you,” Paul said in a pained whisper, “And just hoping that you’d be there for me the way that I’ve always been there for you, I’ve finally learned my fucking lesson.” Shaking his head, the younger man turned away, body trembling as he spoke over his shoulder. ““I love you, John. And I imagine that I always will. But I can’t do this, not anymore. You’ve left me in the dust because for some fucking reason you believe that that bint is your salvation. And honestly, I’m tired of trying to hold on to you. I’m with Linda now, because what other choice do I have?”

Turning around again, Paul fixed John with one last hard look before uttering his parting words, “I want the two of you out of here by nightfall.”

And with a determined step in his gait, Paul walked out of the room as John fell to his knees and cried into his upturned hands.


	15. “I Do” – Chapter XV | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XV.**

“I want a divorce, like my divorce from Cynthia.”

As soon as the words were uttered, a deathly silence descended, seeming to suck the very life out of the entire room. Looking at each other with startled looks on their faces, George and Ringo shrugged helplessly, clearly not knowing what to say or what to do. With a sigh, George turned away, a look between a grimace and faint elation warring on his face as he stared out the window, while Ringo simply lowered his gaze, brilliant blue eyes suddenly finding the answers to life’s greatest questions in the wood grain of their conference table.

Both men were at a complete loss.

On the other side of the room, Paul straightened in his chair, pale face turning sharply to the side and immediately seeking out John’s gaze. His expressive hazel eyes landed on the older man’s face, silently beseeching the older man to reconsider. To take back the hurtful words that had just fallen from his lips.

But it was to no avail.

Instead, the response given was a small smile, though it was one that did not quite reach John’s eyes. Nervously twisting the ring on his finger underneath the table, the older man nevertheless fixed his audience with a defiant stare, daring them to speak out and demand that he rescind his declaration. When no such decry came, the guitarist exchanged an oddly triumphant look with his dark-haired shadow, the smaller of the two looking more than a little enthused. Tearing his gaze away, John looked up and immediately gulped inaudibly as his eyes locked with his old mate’s pained gaze.

Turning away from the window, George suddenly spoke, his hushed tone deafening in the quiet room.

“You sure about this, Johnny?” he asked, curious gaze locked on the older man’s slightly gaunt face.

With a roll of his eyes, John replied quickly as he shot the younger man a disdainful glare, “Of course, I’m sure.” Perking up slightly, he continued with a manic grin, “It’s a bit like game, isn’t it? The intrigue, the explosive statements lobbed during important meetings.”

“Fucking hell…” Ringo muttered from his corner, head shaking from side to side at the other man’s callousness.

All the while, Paul remained silent, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair tightly as he lowered his gaze, unable to look at John’s happy expression or Yoko’s mocking one. When his slender frame started to shake slightly, Paul immediately tightened his grip, the skin stretching thinly over his knuckles, a dull pain shooting through his fingers as the dark leather cut into the tender flesh of his palm.

John turned his head slightly towards the younger man, the smirk on his face fading slightly at the sight. Steeling himself against the stab of pain, he quickly turned away, ears perking up at being addressed by their boorish lawyer.

“John, just be sure to keep this quiet for now,” Allen Klein called out, his booming voice out of place in the tastefully decorated meeting room. “Just do everything like we talked about and get this fucking album in the can before making any announcements.”

At Allen’s words, Paul’s head snapped up, fierce gaze trained on the New Yorker.

“You knew?” he whispered, voice raw and eyes wild.

Confusion marring his features, Allen glanced between John and Paul as he answered, “Well, yes. We talked about this last week. I advised him not to speak of it yet, but…”

“You fucking knew before me?” Paul ground out angrily, interrupting the older man’s sentence. Face flushed, he looked over at John, as he spat, “How could you fucking talk about this with him? How could you, John?”

Rolling his eyes, the older man shot back, “Lighten up, Paul. It’s not like I have to clear things with you first. It’s my fucking decision, my fucking band.”

“Really?” the younger man asked contemptuously, barely restrained fury dripping from the single word he uttered. “I was under the impression that it was our bloody band, you prick.”

Turning away, John waved away Paul’s words dismissively as he said, “Yeah, well, you thought wrong.”

With a loud scraping noise, the younger man stood up as he pushed his chair back, body shaking violently as he leveled John with a furious glare.

“You selfish bastard,” Paul shouted angrily, causing the others to flinch noticeably. Hands closing into fists by his side he slammed them on the table as he leaned forward, his face inches away from John’s. “You’re a fucking piece of work, you know that?” he snarled, eyes flashing angrily. “After everything we’ve been through, you didn’t even have the common fucking courtesy to talk it over with me first. Instead you fucking ambush me in the middle of a bloody meeting!”

Shaking his head, Paul straightened, wide eyes unfocused as he started to walk away from the table.

“I…” he stammered incoherently, as he stalked across the room. “I can’t even look at you anymore.”

And with a slam of the door, Paul was gone.

Rubbing his face tiredly, George slumped down in his seat and covered his eyes with one hand.

‘Well, that went well…” he muttered under his breath.

Leaning forward, Ringo rested his chin in his hands as he propped his elbows up on the tabletop.

“Can you honestly blame him?” the older man replied quietly. Eyes flicking towards the bespectacled man briefly, he shook his head before continuing, “I feel a bit blindsided meself, and I’m just the bloody drummer!”

With a sigh, George turned his gaze back towards the window, dark eyes strangely sad. “Everything’s shot to hell now,” he said to no one in particular, voice soft.

As the two men talked amongst themselves, John simply stared at the closed door, unable to tear his gaze away. Lips pursed tightly and face pale, John sat as still as a statue, his mind ringing with Paul’s parting words.

A small hand suddenly grasped his own, pulling the auburn-haired man out of his daze. He blankly looked down at the woman beside him, vaguely aware of her presence. When she favoured him with a slight smile, John abruptly stood, pulling his hand from her tight grip as he strode towards the closed door.

“What have I fucking done?” he muttered under his breath as he twisted the doorknob roughly to the side and entered the hallway, ignoring the calls behind him.

“John! Where are you going?” Yoko cried out, irritation seeping into her voice.

Accompanying her voice were Allen’s words, “We have more to discuss, boy.”

Not bothering to answer, John simply left the room, the door slamming for the second time and no less jarring.

Prowling through the hallways, John peered into open doors, desperately seeking the younger man. However, there was no sign of him anywhere. Growing frustrated by the second, he jiggled doorknobs violently, cursing under his breath every time he encountered a locked door.

Hands on his hips as he breathed heavily from the unaccustomed exertion, John paused in his search and leaned against the wall near an empty stairwell as he attempted to get his breathing under control. When the distinct smell of cigarettes hit his nose, John turned with a start, eyes squinting behind round-framed glasses as he looked towards the darkened staircase, feet immediately moving up the steps.

As he turned the first corner, John’s gait faltered, for on the second landing stood Paul, his back to the older man as he stared out a small, dingy window and exhaling a steady stream of smoke. Quickly grabbing the banister so as not to fall, John stared at the man in front of him, heart constricting painfully.

He already regretted the words that he had spoken earlier and the way that he had behaved; the cockiness and elation that he had exhibited thoughtlessly leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

John’s arms longed to pull the other man into a desperate embrace, to apologize and make amends for all that had passed between them in recent months. With a shake of his head, he shoved his hands into his pockets instead, and with a steadying breath he ascended the short flight of stairs, stopping a few feet away from Paul. Forcing a nonchalant expression to his face, John leaned back against the banister, eyes appraising the younger man’s tense posture.

“A bit dramatic weren’t we down there?” John finally said, his voice echoing in the empty stairwell.

Shoulders stiff, Paul grimaced as he forced his gaze forward, unwilling to turn his head and allow the older man to see the pain that was still clearly evident on his face.

“Fuck off, John,” Paul ground out instead, in an exhale of smoke. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

His hands noticeably shaking, Paul quickly took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking the stub to the floor, grinding the still smoldering butt under his boot heel before cramming his hands into his pockets.

“Give it a rest, Paul,” the older man said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “I don’t need your fucking dramatics.”

Unable to hold still any longer, Paul whipped around to face John; face flushed an angry red as he seethed, “My dramatics? I wasn’t the one to announce the fucking break up of our band like a gleeful schoolboy on the last day of school before the summer hols.” Shaking his head in amazement, Paul turned his gaze to the ceiling, muttering under his breath, “Divorce. Nice choice of words, mate.”

“Well, whatever fits the occasion…” John trailed off, as he crossed his arms over his chest; gaze locked on the other man’s upturned face.

Lowering his eyes, Paul fixed John with a pointed look as he replied, “If you’re referring to more than the dissolution of the Beatles, then yes. It does.” Shoulders sagging, Paul lowered himself to the ground, sitting on the top step as he hugged his knees to his chest. Looking into the older man’s face he whispered, “Fuck, now I know how Cyn felt when she walked in on your cozy scene.”

“How is that?” John replied quietly as he nervously ran a hand through his hair, the equally distraught older man unable to withstand Paul’s penetrating gaze.

And with a slight hitch in his voice, Paul turned his head away as he whispered, “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”

John glanced over at the younger man’s averted face, eyes threatening to well up at the quietly spoken words. Grasping handfuls of his own hair, the older man turned away, feet moving of their own accord as he began to descend the staircase.

With pained eyes focused intently on his old mate’s hunched over form, Paul stared at John’s retreating back, desperately wanting to call him back but unable to sound out the words. As the older man reached the bottom step, he turned around again, eyes wild as he leveled a finger at Paul’s seated form.

“I thought you’d be pleased about this,” John ground out, his voice shaking. “I thought you wanted to be free to do whatever you please. Make the music that you want without anyone’s interference… marry whomever you choose.”

Standing slowly, Paul advanced on the older man, face contorted in rage at John’s words.

“Don’t you fucking dare, John,” he shouted angrily, as he prodded John in the chest. “Don’t you fucking make this seem as though you’re doing me a favour. You’ve never done one unselfish thing in your life, so don’t pretend to start now.”

Breathing heavily, John simply stared back at the younger man, his glare speaking volumes.

“Just because you feel the need to clear the decks of anything and everything you ever held dear to make room for your supposed new love, you’re thoughtlessly ending the one thing that gave either of us any sort of happiness,” Paul continued, as he backed away, hands closing around the banister tightly, his grip the only thing holding him upright. With a calming breath, the younger man fixed his stoic partner with a beseeching look. “I never felt the need to break anything up in order to be with Linda,” he said quietly, “But for some reason you can’t have anything or anyone else in your life that would be competing with Yoko for your attention.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want any other bloody distractions, mate,” John spat, as he turned away, unable to look the younger man in the eye any longer as his face began to crumple. Forcing all emotion from his voice, he continued, “Don’t tell me that you still want to deal with the same mundane bullshit day in and day out.”

With a nearly inaudible gasp, Paul staggered back, his body connecting with the wall as he turned impossibly wide eyes on the back of the older man’s head.

“Is that all this was to you, John?” Paul asked in a pained whisper. “Was this just mundane bullshit?”

Steeling himself, John took a steadying breath before turning around, his face wiped clean of all the pain and heartache that was churning inside him. Instead, he fixed the younger man with a pitying look as he answered, “We had a good couple of years, Paul. Had a few laughs, wrote a few songs. I mean, you didn’t honestly think that it’d go on forever, did you?”

“When you’re told that it’s forever, that you’ll always be loved,” Paul began quietly, his haunted gaze boring into John’s eyes. “You tend to believe it.”

“Sorry, mate,” the older man replied with a shrug, his casual gesture bellying the pain in his voice. “But it’s time to move on.”

Grimacing, Paul shook his head and brushed past John, pain and anger clouding his vision and causing him to stumble down the stairs. Without thinking, the older man shot out his hand and grasped Paul’s elbow, steadying the younger man before he tumbled to the ground.

Startled, Paul turned sharply towards John, the close proximity affording him a clear look into the older man’s face. He was finally able to see that the painful emotions that bludgeoned him were mirrored in John as well.

With a gasp, he pulled his arm away and quickly made short work of the remaining steps, Paul’s gaze averted as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, a shaky sigh ripped from within his chest.

“It’s going to be all right, Paul,” John hesitantly called out, his voice oddly hopeful. “It’s time to explore what else the world has to offer. And it’s not like we won’t be friends anymore.”

“Fucking hell, John,” the younger man snapped as he whirled around and fixed John with a fierce look. Stuffing his shaking hands into his coat pockets, Paul hunched in on himself as he continued angrily, the volume of his voice rising with ever passing second. “Don’t treat me like a bloody child, telling me the things that you think I want to hear. You know perfectly well that things will never be the same again. So, kindly keep your words of fucking comfort to yourself because I really don’t want to need to hear it.”

“Well, maybe I do,” John cried out desperately, as he descended the stairs stopping directly in front of the younger man. Face etched with pain, John took hold of the lapels of Paul’s coat as he continued in a pleading voice, “Maybe I need to know that things will be okay.”

With a harsh laugh, Paul brushed the older man’s hands away, straightening his collar as he spat, “Well, maybe you need to stop fucking deluding yourself.”

And with a pained look, Paul slipped the rings that John had given him off his fingers. After staring at the twin bands briefly, the dull light from the overhead fixture casting a light shimmer on the polished metal, he took the older man’s hand and dropped them in the middle of his palm before forcing John’s fingers to close around them.

Looking up into John’s eyes, Paul leaned in and placed a brief kiss on the older man’s lips, nearly weeping at the realisation that this would probably be the last time.

“Goodbye John,” he whispered softly, before turning and fleeing down the corridor, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the building.

And with a strangled sob, John sank to his knees, dark eyes tearing up as he tightened his grasp around the rings, hand falling uselessly to his side.


	16. “I Do” – Chapter XVI | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XVI.**

“So, off with the old and on with the new, ey?”

Startled, Paul whirled around at the sound of the mocking voice, nearly slamming his bass into the amp he had just been plugging the instrument into. However, upon seeing who the intruder was, Paul turned back around with a slight scowl, his cherubic features twisting into a look somewhere between annoyance and anger. With a disgusted shake of his head, he simply went back to his previous task, not bothering to answer the question that was directed at him.

Glaring at the younger man’s turned back, John’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses and with a look of fierce determination he began to stalk forward. Just as soon as he took that first step, however, a touch of fear shone through his dark eyes, causing him to stop just as abruptly. Indecision warred on John’s face as he debated his next move silently, fidgety fingers tapping against the side of his thigh as he continued to scowl at his old mate’s back, hands both itching to run through Paul’s hair and alternately wrap around the younger man’s neck.

Finally, with a roll of his eyes, John straightened his shoulders and strode towards Paul’s slightly hunched over form. Glancing at the younger man from the corner of his eyes, John smiled inwardly at the tense set of Paul’s jaw as he kept his glares directed towards the amp. Letting a small smirk slip though, the older man casually kneeled down and picked up an abandoned acoustic guitar, slowly inching closer to Paul as he started to pluck random strings.

As he threw the younger man another sideways glance, John leaned in closer, relishing Paul’s familiar scent for a brief second before pulling back slightly with a shake of his head. However, as soon as he regained control over himself, John wasted no time in moving forward again, telling himself that he only wanted to be as close to Paul as possible in case someone happened to hear what he had to say, despite the fact that they were the only two people in the entire studio.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, mate.” John whispered, his warm breath tickling the side of Paul’s face.

The words seemed to have no immediate outward effect. Paul simply continued to ignore the older man, eyes focused intently on his bass as he studiously avoided John’s gaze.

With a shrug, John simply went on, ceasing to care if the other man answered him or not.

“I mean, after the big fuss that you made about the whole divorce thing,” the older man continued with a smirk, eyes delighting in his mate’s haggard expression. “I didn’t think that you would’ve moved on so quickly.”

To hide the sudden shaking of his hands, Paul began twisting and turning the knobs on the amp as he bit his lip painfully, not quite trusting himself to not open his mouth and say something that he would definitely regret later.

Starting to casually tune his guitar, John leaned back and pretended to focus on the instrument in his hands, as he continued to speak, all the while looking over at Paul through hooded eyes.

“So, how is wedded bliss, mate?” he asked in a conversational tone. “Is it true what they say about the American girls? Do they really let themselves go once they’ve hooked a man?”

And it was those words that broke the fucking camel’s back, as the old adage went.

Leaning the bass guitar against the amp, the younger man whirled around, arms crossing over his chest as he fixed John with a look of utter contempt.

“Well, it’s a sight better than the dumpy little Oriental bird you’ve been spending time with these days,” Paul sneered, face a mixture of anger and loathing. Leaning forward, he continued in a conspiratorial tone, “Tell me, love, is her hair as coarse down there as well?”

With a sneer, John practically threw the acoustic away from him and lunged forward, hands closed into tight fists as he made to strike the younger man. Paul, however, stood his ground, fixing the older man with an annoyed look rather then flinch or cower at John’s obviously threatening posture.

At the very last second, John held himself back, shoulders tense and fists hanging uselessly by his side as he stared into the younger man’s haughty expression. If anyone had innocently stumbled in on the tense little scene, they would’ve undoubtedly flinched at the waves of anger that radiated off the two men, creating a tangible bitterness in the air.

It was certainly distressing to see two formerly inseparable partners reduced to this.

Sighing, John turned away as his fists uncurled. Time was that he wouldn’t have hesitated to strike any man who dared to insult him, but this was Paul, and those rules did not apply.

Plus, he just didn’t have it in him.

Staring at the older man’s hunched over form; Paul relaxed visibly as he let out a shaky breath. Turning back to his previously abandoned guitar, the younger man’s eyes closed briefly as he tried to get the erratic beating of his heart under control. With a shake of his head, Paul picked up his bass once more, fully intending to ignore the other man as he went to work on his current masterpiece in progress.

With a look at the look of concentration on the younger man’s face, John grumbled low under his breath before turning away. Arms folded behind his head, he walked to the other side of the room, mumbling to himself as he paced the polished wood floors, unknowingly watched from beneath long eyelashes.

After a minute or two of agitated marching, John stopped in the middle of the studio, hands on his hips as he called out, “Why’d you do it?”

Looking up briefly, Paul cocked his head to the side, a look of confusion descending on his features as he asked, “Why’d I do what?”

With a roll of his eyes, John ground out slowly, “Why did you marry her?” as though speaking to an idiot.

“And you give a damn because…” Paul sneered as he lowered his gaze, fingers plucking out an intricate bass line.

Throwing his arms up in the air, John exclaimed angrily, “Fucking hell, Paul. You know why!”

“No, I really don’t, John!” the younger man shot back as he lowered his guitar to the ground carefully. Eyes flashing as he looked up, he spat, “Why don’t you fucking enlighten me?”

“What about us?” the older man asked softly, plaintive gaze locked on Paul’s angry face.

“Us?” Paul replied with a harsh laugh. “There is no  _us_  anymore. You saw to that personally.” Head tilted to the side, he fixed his mate with a scathing and added, “Or do you not remember your behaviour these last few months?”

Stalking forward, John’s face twisted into a look of disgust as he shouted, “Are you fucking daft, mate? Did the thought that maybe I didn’t mean for it to be permanent not go through your thick skull? That maybe it was just how I felt at the moment? Do you not know me at all, man?”

“I know you perfectly well, mate,” the Paul shot back, as he took a menacing step forward, poking the older man squarely in the chest. “But I refuse to play these games anymore, John! You either say what you mean or don’t say a fucking thing at all!” His voice starting to shake, Paul quickly croaked out, “But I will not be toyed with any longer.”

And with a parting sneer, Paul turned around and quickly began walking away, praying that the shudder in his voice and the trembling of his body want unnoticed by the other man.

“I never meant for it to go this far, Paul,” John called out to the quickly fleeing man. Hand running anxiously through his hear, he started to stammer slightly as he continued, “I… I just thought that we’d take a break from all of this. You know, just for a short while, and then we’d get back together again.”

At John’s words, Paul stopped, body tense as he stood with his hand against the door. With a shuddering sigh, he slumped forward, head falling against the smooth wood, as he desperately sought to get his emotions under control.

Eyes locked on the other man’s still frame, John walked forward slowly and reached for Paul’s hand, clasping it tightly as he pulled the younger man forward, their bodies resting flush against each other. Wrapping one arm around Paul’s waist, John rested his chin on the bassist’s shoulder, their bodies trembling at the intimate embrace.

“It could be just like the old times again,” the older man whispered, lips fluttering against Paul’s ear. Nuzzling the side of the younger man’s neck, he asked softly, “Don’t you want that again, love?”

Head shaking silently, Paul tried to break free, but the halfhearted attempt showed that he really had no desire to do so. The younger man barely struggled against John’s grip, and not a word of protest fell from his lips when the guitarist pulled him closer, the arm around his waist tightening considerably.

“Don’t do this John,” Paul pleaded, his voice shaking. “Please.”

Kissing Paul’s neck, the older man whispered back, “Do what, Macca?”

“Fuck…” the younger man sighed, his eyes closing at the feel of John’s lips on his skin.

He unconsciously arched his neck to the side, giving the other man increased access to his neck, which John happily took advantage of. The older man began to suck, nibble, and lick in earnest, kisses growing in intensity by the second. With a moan, John fisted Paul’s shirt and pulled it up slightly, his fingers lightly caressing the taut skin that lay directly underneath.

“Think about it, Paulie,” John said between kisses, voice barely above a moan. “Think about everything that we’ve had, everything that we could have again. It’ll never be the same with your American bird. It’ll never be quite as good.”

Eyes closed, Paul writhed against John’s body, as he groaned softly, “Stop it, John.”

“Do you really want me to?” the older man replied before kissing the sensitive skin behind the younger man’s ear, smiling to himself when Paul moaned loudly.

“Fuck no,” the younger man sighed as he leaned back further, his lower body rubbing against John’s most sensitive areas. When the evidence of the older man’s arousal became more than apparent, Paul’s eyes opened with a gasp and face falling he began to struggle in earnest as he continued, “But you have to. I can’t do this anymore, John. I’m married,” with a regretful note in his voice.

And as though he was burned, John abruptly released him and backed away, causing Paul to stumble a few feet back in surprise.

Getting his breathing under control, John’s face hardened as he looked over at the younger man in disdain as he spat, “And I wasn’t all those years?” his face flushed in anger.

“But you never truly loved Cyn!” Paul cried desperately, as he backed away. Eyes downcast, he continued in a harsh whisper, “Not the way that I love Linda.”

Face crumpling, John staggered back, looking very much like someone who had just been punched repeatedly in the stomach. With a wild look in his eyes, he ground out, “What about me? Have your feelings for me been replaced so easily by your feelings for this woman?”

“John,” Paul pleaded despairingly as he reached out to the older man. With a look of shame, he whispered, “I’m so sorry…”

“Fuck you, Paul,” John spat, as he evaded the younger man’s hand. Shaking his head, he continued, his voice raw, “You’re such an asshole. You went on and on about fucking forever, but here you are, already moving on.” Looking into Paul’s eyes, his fury and sorrow painfully shining through, John started to back away, gaze unwavering as he spat, “You couldn’t even fucking wait to add another fucking notch to your bedpost!”

The sympathetic look on his face changing into one of resentment, the younger man replied, “What about you and Yoko, huh? You were with her long before Linda and I ever got together!” Leveling a finger at John, he continued voice shaking with barely repressed anger, “So, don’t turn this around on me when you’re just as guilty! At least I had the common decency to wait until  **after**  you broke up with me!”

As the words hung in the air, the two men simply stared at each other, each man desperately wanting to make amends, to put an end to all of this, yet neither wanting to be the one to make the first move. Finally with a sound of disgust, John turned away.

“You know what? Just forget it,” the older man replied with a shrug, his face suddenly wiped clean of all emotion. Glancing back at the younger man briefly, John shook his head as he began to quickly walk away, lest the uncaring mask slip from his face.

“Forget any of this even happened,” he called out over his shoulder. “I mean, I don’t even know what I was thinking. Yoko and I have something good together, something great.” Stopping suddenly, he turned around and threw the other man a smirk. “There is no reason why I should still be fucking pining over you.”

Immediately contrite, Paul started to move forward, his advance immediately impeded by the furious look thrown his way.

“John…” Paul cried, his words trailing away as the older man opened the door to the studio.

“No, this bloody ends now,” John muttered to himself, his words just barely heard by the younger man. “That’s it. I’m done. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got something more important to tend to.”

And with one last parting glance, John strode out of the room, as Paul stared at the older man’s back before lowering his gaze with a shuddering sigh.


	17. “I DO” – Chapter XVII | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XVII.**

_“Something in the way he moves. Attracts me like no other lover…”_

Absently singing to himself, John stared out at the scene before him, a slight smile playing across his lips as he watched Paul cavorting across his front lawn, laughing happily as Martha, his trusty sheepdog, gamboled after him. An amused, and very pregnant, Linda sat nearby, sunlight glinting off her blonde locks as she too watched the most important man in both of their lives, eyes lighting up with delight as the dog suddenly ran up, and threw herself into the waiting woman’s arms.

And when the dark-haired man, disheveled and out of breath, ran up to the seated woman soon after and bestowed a loving kiss on the top of her head as he patted her protruding belly with the utmost care, John couldn’t help but sigh sadly and turn his face away, suddenly unable to watch the touching scene without feeling like sick to his stomach.

Though like a voyeur, he continued to watch the touching scene play out before him, faintly wishing that Paul would look at him that way again.

Breathing deeply, John leaned back onto the grass; his skinny legs encased in tight black trousers were bent at the knee as his elbows propped his torso up. Face shadowed by the large brimmed hat atop his head, John hoped that it shrouded his gaze from prying eyes; however, unbeknownst to him, the hat did nothing to disguise what his stare kept returning to from the person seated right next to him.

Leaning sideways, Ringo turned to the pensive man with a knowing smirk, his own eyes darting towards the couple on the other side of the green.

“Something in the way  _he_  moves?” Ringo tartly asked, unable to hide the grin in his voice. “A new take on the lyrics, I see. Not sure how George would feel about that!” he exclaimed as he gently bumped John with his shoulder.

With an unmanly squeak, John quickly sat up, flashes of crimson peeking through the heavy beard on his face as he tried to avoid the drummer’s knowing gaze.

“I didn’t say  **he** ,” John stammered unconvincingly, eyes darting nervously from side to side. “I said  **she**!” Erupting into a peal of forced laughter, he continued, “You should have your hearing checked, mate.”

Head tilted to the side, Ringo fixed John with a look of utter disbelief, causing him to squirm under the scrutinizing stare.

With an amused shake of his head, Ringo muttered, “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” as he turned away, a thoughtful look on his face.

An uneasy silence descended on the two men, and with a pained look, John resumed his previous pose, eyes glued to the happy couple and their dog, fingers nervously tapping against the inside of his thigh.

Sighing, Ringo turned back towards John, his heart going out to the other man as he noticed his obvious gloom. With a deep breath, he twisted his body around, and sitting cross-legged on the warm grass, he leaned forward and placed a reassuring hand on John’s knee, prompting the other man to turn a sorrowful gaze upwards.

“You still love him,” Ringo stated without preamble, voice low to prevent anyone from listening in.

Sighing, John turned his face away, a noticeable shudder moving through his body as he closed his eyes tightly.

That simple action told Ringo all that he needed to know.

Leaning in close, he tilted his head up slightly so that his face was directly in line with John’s downturned one as he asked softly, “Have you told him?” his fingers beginning to rub the other man’s knee comfortingly.

Shaking his head, John’s bloodshot eyes peered out from behind round-framed glasses, “Well, bloody hell Ritchie,” he ground out. “Paul should just bloody well know that!”

“How is he going to know, John?” Ringo exclaimed exasperatedly. Fixing the fidgety man with a pointed stare he retorted, “Has there been even one moment of civility between the two of you in the last six months?”

With an obstinate glare on his face, John shot back, “Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it?” his voice rising slightly. “He has her. He doesn’t need me anymore.”

“Have you asked him?” Ringo replied, his voice rising to match the other man’s. Eyes boring into John’s, Ringo softened his voice slightly before continuing, “Have you tried talking to him without letting the conversation descend into pointed attacks and petty name-calling?”

“He’s the one who always starts it!” the bespectacled man exclaimed childishly, lip rounding out into a pout.

Rolling his eyes, Ringo shoved John lightly, as he retorted, “Don’t give me that, Lennon! I’ve seen you in action and I know what you’re capable of. So don’t tell me that it’s all Paul’s doing.”

Grimacing, John turned away, eyes downcast as he absently began to rip blades of grass out of the warm earth, showering his lap in a rain of green.

Watching John briefly as he resolutely stared at the ground below, Ringo shook his head with a muttered curse and quickly looked the other way, unable to look at the other man’s despondent expression any longer.

“I just hate seeing the two of you this way,” Ringo began softly. “You two seem so fucking unhappy!”

With a snort, John glanced up and stared at Paul’s happy expression briefly before fixing Ringo with a look of disdain. “Right,” he scoffed with a tilt of his head towards subject of their conversation. “Our boy over there is a complete fucking mess!”

“Oh, fuck off, Johnny,” Ringo spat, suddenly angry. Between gritted teeth he ground out, “You of all people should know when Paul is truly happy or when he’s playing the part of the happy Beatle. Yeah, I’m sure he looks in high spirits now, and probably is happy. But can you honestly tell me that he’s really and truly the same Paul that we’ve known all these years?”

Eyes sad, John fixed his mate with a penetrating gaze, silent for a brief second as he looked for the words he wanted to say.

Finally, with a shaky exhale, John tilted his head to the side and replied softly, “Ringo,” he began, “Who are we to say that this isn’t who he is now? That the Paul we see before us isn’t some new and improved version of the Paul we once knew?”

With a slightly mocking laugh, he shook his head sadly as he turned his face to the sky, the warmth of the sun’s rays bathing his suddenly chilled skin. Looking down into Ringo’s face, he continued in a uncharacteristically subdued voice, “We’ve all changed so much over the last couple of years, barely recognizable to the lads who signed Brian’s fucking devil’s pact and sold our souls for fame and money.” Closing his eyes as his breathing sped up; John continued in a pained voice, “How do you even know that this Paul could love this John?”

“John…” Ringo began, eyes misting slightly.

“Besides, I’m happy!” the guitarist broke in, eyes bright with forced cheer. “No, I’m fucking thrilled with the way my life is right now.” Leaning forward, he grasped the other man’s hands in his own, squeezing them tightly as he continued with a desperate note in his voice, “I have Yoko, and she’s everything that I could hope for in a partner. What more could I possibly want?”

Extricating his hands slowly from John’s tight grip, Ringo looked straight into his mate’s eyes and said, “I don’t doubt that you and Yoko are happy, likewise with Paul and Linda, but…” Trailing off with a sigh, Ringo shook his head as he continued, “And I know that we’ve all changed a lot, but I still know you John. I know you and Paul, and what passes for happy these days is nothing compared to what it was before.” Fixing the other man with a pleading look, he asked, “Won’t you at least talk to him? You two haven’t exchanged a word all day.”

“I just wouldn’t know what to say to him,” John replied softly, as he turned his face away from Ringo’s penetrating gaze, eyes searching for something else to focus on in the distance.

“Say what to whom?”

With a start, both John and Ringo jumped nearly a foot in the air at the sound of the new voice, two pairs of widened eyes turning simultaneously towards the approaching figures.

Smiling at the two men, Ringo nodded silently in greeting as George threw himself down on the grass beside the drummer with a tired moan while his companion stood awkwardly by, hands stuffed into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on the heels of his newly polished black leather shoes. Lifting his head up slightly, Paul fixed John’s averted face with a brief stare, quickly turning away the minute that the older man moved his head, lest he get caught red-handed.

“Are we done yet?” George groused, as he took off his wide-brimmed hat and flung it away from him, watching it sail across the lawn before landing a few feet away. Lying down on the grass, the youngest of the four muttered, “I’m fucking knackered. I’ve no stomach for this nonsense these days. Besides, it’s a bloody waste of time, if you ask me.”

Chuckling, Ringo shook his head in amusement as he shot back, “Oh, get off it, Harrison. We’ve only been here for half an hour. We’ve had longer photo sessions than this!”

“I know,” George continued to grumble, “But it’s all just such a fucking  **waste**  of time,” he repeated forcefully. “Not like we need the publicity anymore anyway…”

Barely paying attention to the conversation going on around him, John stared at Paul’s downturned head, unable to turn his gaze away, nor was he particularly inclined to do so.

Looking over at the two silent men, Ringo jabbed John painfully in the side, causing the bespectacled man to look over crossly. Unaffected by John’s slowly simmering ire; Ringo simply tilted his head towards the still standing man, pleading with John silently to speak to Paul.

However, just as John was about to greet the younger man, Paul lifted his head and fixed his old mate with a determined gaze.

“Uh,” he stammered, his voice coming out in a loud squeak. Face flushing, he quickly cleared his throat before continuing, “You want to go for a walk?”

Looking like a deer caught in headlights, John simply stared back at the other man mutely, unable to find the words to craft his response. Ringo prodded him none-too-gently in the back, and with a quick glare at the older man, John quickly nodded his head in acquiescence before he jumping to his feet and falling into step beside Paul.

Neither man noticed the triumphant glances that were exchanged behind them.

John and Paul walked in silence as they moved through the busy part of the lawn, leaving the hordes of hangers on, photographers, and significant others as they entered the slightly untamed grove of trees that lay on the outskirts of John’s property.

Once they were out of sight, and out of earshot, the two men stopped, instinctively moving closer together as they turned towards each other.

“So,” Paul began, smiling hesitantly. “How have you been?”

Head tilted to the side, John regarded the other man with a silent look before finally responding with a shrug, “I’ve been all right. How about you?”

“Can’t complain…” Paul replied with a mirroring lift of his shoulders as he turned away and leaned against a nearby tree, head tilted back against the rough trunk.

As a somewhat comfortable silence descended on the two men, John allowed his gaze to linger on his old partner, his knowing eyes seeing through Paul’s casual pose and focusing instead on the tense set of the other man’s jaw and the nervous tapping of his foot against the ground under their feet.

Suddenly a smirk broke out on John’s face and with a roll of his eyes, he leaned against the other side of Paul’s tree and asked, “So, did George have a talk with you earlier about us and dreadful way we’ve been treating each other?”

Eyes widening in surprise, Paul whipped his head around, the tense expression on his face melting immediately when he caught sight of the smirk on John’s lips.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Paul shook his head with a sigh as he replied, “You guessed right.” Turning an inquisitive look on the other man, he asked, “I take it that Ringo had a talk with you, as well?”

In lieu of saying a word, John simply a raised an eyebrow in response, causing the younger man’s face to break into an amused grin, a roll of his eyes conveying his amusement at the antics of their other band members.

“Meddlesome bastards,” Paul said with a laugh. “I can’t fucking believe they set us up like that!”

Shaking his head, John started laughing as well, the tense mood dissipating into the crisp, clean air and allowing the two men to finally relax.

The sudden lightening of the mood had also broken down the barriers that each man carefully constructed whenever they were in each other’s presence, barriers that protected them from the pain and heartbreak that were helpless against. With the barriers gone, the two men were left completely exposed, naked to the knowing eyes of the person who knew them best.

As the laughter died down, the air around them changed considerably, mirth giving way to crackling electricity. As they locked gazes, John and Paul could feel the pull that had always drawn them to each other, the feelings that simmered right below the surface threatening to bubble forth.

With a pronounced gulp, Paul hesitantly moved a small step forward, his hand reaching for John’s as it rested just below his own, grasping the lower half of the tree lightly. However, the minute his fingers made contact with John’s heated skin, the older man quickly snatched his hand away and stepped back, the frightened look in his eyes burning through Paul when they made contact.

With a shuddering breath the older man turned away, arms hanging limply by his sides as he closed his eyes and tried to calm the erratic beating of his heart. His hand tingled, the point where Paul had touched him sending tendrils of electric energy through the rest of his body.

Behind him, Paul’s face fell, shoulders drooping as he stared at his mate’s turned back, unsure of whether or not to speak or reach out to John and pull him into his arms. Sighing, Paul turned his gaze towards the path leading out of the grove of trees, and contemplated fleeing without another word, lest any of his actions make the situation even worse.

As he turned to go, John suddenly spoke, his voice stopping the younger man in his tracks.

“How’s Linda faring?” he asked, as he turned around to face Paul, face wiped clean of the torment from a moment ago.

Silently staring back at the other man with his mouth hanging open, Paul was at a complete loss for words. His mind worked overtime, trying to figure out the sudden in change in John’s composure, and the sudden line of questioning. Not knowing what to say, Paul simply stared silently back, much to the older man’s amusement.

Reaching over with a smirk, John placed his finger beneath Paul’s jaw and closed his mouth with a snap, promptly pulling the younger man out of his startled daze.

With a glare, Paul batted John’s hand away before answering with a reluctant grin, “She’s doing well, and the baby should be here any day now.” Eyes now shining with barely concealed excitement, he continued with a full-fledged smile, “Heather’s dead excited to get a baby sister or brother.”

“I can imagine,” John replied with a forced grin, the light in his eyes dimming slightly. Though he continued to smile, the dullness of his tone gave his sudden change in mood away as he continued with a barely repressed sigh, “Well, I’m happy for you, the both of you.”

“Fuck, mate. Tone down that excitement just a bit,” Paul said teasingly, nudging the other man lightly with his shoulder. Noticing the sad look on John’s face, Paul sobered quickly, a look of concern in his eyes as he glanced at his mate. “Hey now,” he began consolingly as he placed a comforting hand on John’s forearm. “I’m sure you and Yoko will have one of your own soon. Pregnancies can be a frightening thing, mate. Unfortunately not all work out the way that they should.”

Shaking his head, John looked over at the younger man, as he answered with a shrug, “I’m not worried about that. When the time is right, it’ll happen.” Eyes still sad, he continued softly, “It’s just that all of this really gives the situation a feeling of permanency, doesn’t it?”

As realization dawned in Paul’s eyes, his lips curled downwards as he replied in an equally quiet voice, “Yeah, I suppose so.”

With a sigh, the two men turned slightly away from each other, lost in their own thoughts as their eyes surveyed the land before them.

As John absently reached up to scratch his heavy beard, Paul’s eyes were suddenly drawn from the scenery and moved towards his mate’s face, unable to turn away even when John turned his gaze on him.

Amused by Paul’s unwavering stare, John lowered his hand and asked, “What’s on your mind then? Out with it.”

Grinning sheepishly, the younger man dragged his gaze away from John’s abundant facial hair and replied cheekily, “I just can’t get over all the hair.”

“What?” John replied in mock indignation, hand pressed up against his chest. “I thought you fancied me with a bit of hair on me lip,” he continued, eyebrows waggling suggestively.

With a roll of his eyes, Paul responded, “We’re beyond  _a bit of hair_  now, love. It looks like a pair of rats has nested on your face.”

“Hey now, that wasn’t very nice!” John shot back, a wounded look on his face. “You never heard me make a crack about your impersonation of a bloody caveman not too long ago.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Paul replied back, “Not to my face you didn’t! Besides, there is no way that you can compare my beard to that monstrosity. It doesn’t even look real!”

“I’ll have you know, sir, that this beard is 100% natural,” John said, affecting an offended tone. “No animals were harmed in the making of it.”

Laughing, Paul reached over and tugged hard on John’s beard as he replied cheekily, “There is no way in hell that that could be all yours!”

“None of that now, that bloody hurt!” John yelped painfully as he grabbed Paul’s hand and yanked it away, fingers tightening around the other man’s slim wrist.

Hands still clasped together, Paul leaned forward with a smirk, not thinking twice as he rested forehead against John’s, the familiar pose bringing back a wealth of memories. With a start, John raised his eyes to meet Paul’s, suddenly unable to turn his gaze away as long buried feelings and a welcome sense of contentment danced around them. Closing the gap between their bodies, John and Paul stepped ever closer, their faces a hairs breadth apart.

“Lads! We’re ready for the next shot!”

The sound of the distant voice startled the two men, jarring John painfully out of the moment and into the precarious position that they had just put themselves into. He immediately dropped Paul’s hand, but just as he began to turn away, the younger man grabbed John’s face in his hands and holding him steady, placed a light kiss on his forehead.

Before John could fully grasp what had happened, Paul backed away, but not before favouring his mate with a grin.

Turning towards the sound of the photographer’s voice, Paul said resignedly, “I suppose we should head back to the others before they come looking for us.”

Still slightly shook up from what had just passed between them, John shook his head to rearrange his thoughts, clearing his throat before answering, “You’re probably right.” Fixing the other man with a quick look, he muttered under his breath, “Bastard.”

Grinning, Paul bent low at the waist and with a flourish of his arms, looked up at John and boomed grandly, “After you, sir.”

And with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, John gave into the younger man’s playful theatrics and curtseyed girlishly before setting out, Paul following close behind.


	18. “I Do” – Chapter XVIII | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XVIII.**

“Come to inflict more damage?”

Lips immediately curling into a smirk, John turned around slowly, eyebrow raised mockingly as he locked eyes with his old mate. Raking his gaze over the other man’s slightly trembling frame, John noted with delight the anger in Paul’s hazel eyes as his hands curled into fists by his side, causing John’s grin to widen to massive proportions, a Grinch-like smile stretched thin on a gaunt face.

With a casual shrug, John turned back around, obviously delighted by the sight that greeted him, as he replied cheerily, “Actually, I’ve just come to admire our handiwork, you don’t mind do you, mate?

“Of course not,” Paul shot back angrily, sarcasm lacing every word. “Heaven forbid I make a fuss about you showing up here again after what you and our mates did this afternoon.”

Throwing the younger man a sidelong glance, John shot back in an offhand manner, “No need to be snippy about it, Paul.” Shaking his head in mock sadness, the older man continued in an almost resigned fashion, “You always take everything so personally.”

“Excuse me?” Paul spat, voice trembling with undisguised rage. “Personally? Am I to assume that the implication here is that vandalism of my own private property should not be taken as a personal offense?”

And with that ever-present smirk widening even further, John replied, “That’s pretty much the gist of it.”

Throwing his arms into the air in exasperation, Paul turned away from the sight of John’s Cheshire grin, slim frame shaking in barely repressed anger. In an attempt to regain some semblance of control, he ran a hand through his hair, gripping the dark locks tightly and nearly ripping them from his skull. Paul gladly withstood the sharp pain that simple action elicited, especially if it would help him rein in his anger and the strong urge to turn around and throttle his once best mate.

“Real mature, John,” he mumbled half to himself. “Real fucking mature.” With a growl, Paul whipped around, narrowed eyes meeting blank ones as he ground out, “What’s next? You going to pick me last for a game of football or throw food at me from across the bloody dining hall during lunch? Because throwing fucking bricks through my front window certainly isn’t something that intelligent, sane adults would do.”

Arms crossing over his chest, John regarded the younger man with dark eyes as the grin seemed to instantly melt off his face; his intent, quiet stare instilling a seed of unease deep within Paul’s gut.

Gaze unwavering, John intoned calmly, “Actually, Paul, why don’t you be a good little lad and just piss off?” before turning around dismissively, shoulders held stiffly as he faced the window once more.

Heat infused his cheeks as a deep shade of red flooded Paul’s vision, a heady dose of anger whipping through his system like wildfire.

Unthinkingly, he stalked closer to the older man as he spat, “You’ve got some nerve, Lennon. Some fucking nerve!” voice rising by degrees with each word. “If anyone should be _pissing off_  it should be your sorry ass because you’re on my bloody property!”

Breathing heavily, Paul stopped directly in front of the still man, his face mere centimeters from John’s.

“As a matter of fact,” he whispered harshly, eyes narrowed into slits. “I should probably give the police a call. I’m sure they’d be quite interested to hear about a trespasser vandalizing my home.”

Swallowing thickly, John forced himself to stand his ground, trying not to let the effect of Paul’s proximity show on his face.

With a forced casual shrug he hissed, “I wouldn’t put it past you. After all, you did take us, your mates, to court, so, I’d wager you’re capable of anything!”

“Mates?” Paul barked harshly. “Now that’s a laugh. I didn’t know that it was common practice for mates to turn their backs on you when things got tough.”

Shaking his head slightly as he backed away, John sighed resignedly, the words “Fuck you, Paul…” ground out from between gritted teeth as he began walking away.

“No! Fuck you, John!” Paul exclaimed angrily, as he jabbed the newly vacated space in front of him. “Fuck you!” Voice trembling, he called out to John’s turned back; “Do not make me out to be the bloody bad guy in all of this. Fuck, you’re the one who wanted to break up the fucking band in the first place!”

And as Paul uttered those words, John stopped dead in his tracks, his entire body stiffening noticeably.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Paul called out, voice rising slightly so that the biting tone of his words would be felt by his retreating mate. “You’re mad because I stole your bloody thunder, that I was the one to actually go ahead and do what you have been itching to do for so long.” And with a shake of his head, Paul continued derisively, “Sorry, John, but I guess you just didn’t have the bollocks to go through with it!”

With a deep, steadying breath, John slowly turned around, eyes flashing daggers at the younger man as his lips curled upwards into a sneer.

“Give it a rest, will ya?” he shot back, hands crossing over his chest as he fixed Paul with a pitying stare. “That has nothing to do with this. This is about you dragging our names through the mud just so you can release albums filled with your shite music.”

Eyes narrowing, Paul simply glared in response, seething silently at John’s words.

“Did I touch a nerve, love?” John continued with a tilt of his head, faint merriment dancing in his eyes.

Forcing a mask of cool detachment over his face, Paul sniped, “Say whatever you will, but you’re the one who wanted a bloody divorce in the first place. You cast the first stone.” And as a look of amusement flitted briefly across his features, Paul threw a cursory glance towards the three jagged holes in his window before continuing with a shrug, “Quite literally in this instance.”

Still staring at the younger man, an unexpected grin flashed across John’s face, and Paul immediately knew that whatever John said next would not be pleasant.

The older man did not disappoint.

Tilting his head to the side, John slowly moved towards Paul, his languorous gait somehow closing the distance between them rapidly.

“Are you still hung up on that, Paul?” he whispered conspiratorially as he moved in achingly close, his warm breath washing over the side of Paul’s face as he spoke. Curling his tongue outwards to flick Paul’s ear teasingly, he continued, “Still feeling the sting of being discarded by your old lover?”

Leering, John leaned back slightly, allowing Paul’s stricken expression to come into view. Taking in those wide, pained eyes caused a brief twinge of regret to take root in John’s stomach, and though he shook his head to dislodge the feeling, it was to no avail. So, instead of dwelling on the sudden feeling of guilt, John soldiered on, hurtful words tumbling out of his lips as though he was on autopilot.

“Fucking hell, mate,” he continued, filling in Paul’s hurt silence with faux nonchalance. “I’d have thought that you would’ve been over that by now.” Looking at the other man askance, he asked, “Or are you still hung up on me? Is that it? Is your little woman no longer satisfying you?” Clapping Paul on the shoulder, John continued with a forced grin, “If all you wanted was a shag, you could’ve just asked me, Paulie instead of stooping to such drastic measures.”

Shaking John’s hand off, Paul quickly backed away, the wounded look on his face fading with every step he took. With pain replaced by a fresh wave of anger, his usually cherubic features were twisted into a pained grimace, waves of rage radiating off his slight frame.

“Will you just listen to yourself?” Paul hissed, hands unconsciously balling into fists. “Do you have any idea how fucking arrogant you sound? This has nothing to do with the two of us and you know it. This was about business and nothing else.”

“Business? You mean money, right? I knew that this was all about money!” John crowed triumphantly. Unable to restrain himself from getting in another dig, he continued with a lecherous wink, “Trying to eke out a divorce settlement, love?”

With a menacing step forward, Paul raised his fists fully intending to strike the other man, but when their eyes met, Paul dropped his hands with a long, drawn out sigh instead.

“Will you fucking give it up, John?” he asked quietly, gaze silently beseeching the older man to understand. “I did what I had to do because the Beatles were hemorrhaging money under our bloody noses! Someone had to do something about it before we lost it all!”

Desperation seeping out of every pore, Paul reached forward and grasped John by the shoulders, shaking him roughly in an effort to make him understand.

“Don’t you see?” he pleaded. “He didn’t care about our interests or how hard we bloody worked for everything! He just wanted a piece of us, no matter what he had to do to get it! Did you expect me to just stand idly by, knowing what I knew about him?”

Suddenly letting John go, Paul turned away, hands anxiously running through his hair as he tried to get a hold of himself, taking in steadying breaths to calm his erratically beating heart.

Straightening his shoulders with an audible crack, John fixed Paul’s back with a glare as he shot back, “Stop trying to be the knight in shining armor, mate. You just wanted your in-laws to take charge, one more way for Mr. McCartney to take control of the Beatles.”

A look of agony twisted Paul’s face as he quickly turned around the expression not missing John’s notice. The older man immediately felt another pang of regret at his words, but he bit his tongue, lest an unwelcome apology slip past his lips.

“Have you any idea what it took, John?” Paul replied softly, the fire in his eyes and voice dimmed considerably. “Do you have any idea how long I agonized over the decision?” Looking up at John with a haunted expression, Paul’s shoulders slumped as he closed his eyes and took in a steadying breath, his voice low and empty. “You’ve known me since I was 15 years old. Have I ever been known to give into whims and flights of fancy? That may be your MO, John but it has never been mine.”

John simply stared silently back, not trusting himself to say a word.

When he got no response, Paul walked towards the older man slowly, fingers itching to reach out and grab hold of John, to squeeze the hand that had once fit so perfectly in his own. But that was not in the cards at the moment, so, he fought back the desire with a shake of his head and a deep sigh.

“You’ve always known me the best, Johnny,” Paul continued imploringly. “How could you ever imagine that I would be capable of such a thing?”

And with those quietly spoken, pleading words, John put an end to his silence.

“I do know you, Paul,” he ground out, face hard and eyes flashing angrily. “That’s why I find it far too easy to believe.”

Eyes widening, Paul stumbled backwards with a shocked gasp, the expression on his face one of unbearable pain.

“You’ve always been the fucking controlling one; everything always had to be done your way,” John snapped as he advanced on the younger man. “Look at your track record, mate. The minute Brian passed away; you were just raring to go. Ready to take control of the Beatles and the vast empire that went along with it. So, when you pulled this stunt, I couldn’t help but shake my head at the irony of it all. Sadly, this is exactly what you would do, and I never expected any less.”

With John’s words hanging between them, a heavy silence fell on the two men, a pair of pained eyes staring into defiant ones. The seconds ticked by, though it felt like more time had passed. Finally, Paul dropped his gaze, a pronounced shudder racking his frame as he turned away.

“Well, I wasn’t entirely expecting that,” he muttered under his breath, voice low but still audible. “I mean, how often does one hear that their best mate has always seen them as an arrogant, controlling, manipulative bastard?”

Running a hand over his face, John reached forward, fingers grazing Paul’s shoulder briefly before the younger man quickly moved out of reach.

“Paul…” he sighed, exasperatedly. “Why…”

“No, you’re right, John,” Paul quickly interrupted with a casual shrug that bellied the haunted look in his eyes. “I am an asshole. How you put up with me all these years is beyond me. You must have the patience of a fucking saint.”

“Stop it, Paul!” John said angrily, as he moved forward again, his body inches away from Paul’s. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

However, the other man paid him no heed, carrying on as though John hadn’t interrupted him.

“Not to mention having to pretend to care about me!” Paul exclaimed, voice shaking slightly, unshed tears shining in his expressive eyes. “And pretending to love me? Now that must have been especially difficult! I’d tip my hat to you if I was wearing one right now.”

Sighing, John moved forward, slender fingers wrapping around Paul’s wrist tightly as he forced the younger man to look at him. “Come on, Paul,” he whispered urgently. “They’re just words, words spoken in a fit of anger. You know that I didn’t necessarily mean them.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, John,” Paul echoed expressionlessly. Shaking the older man’s grip off, he quickly turned and walked away, as he called over his shoulder, “I think I’m going to go. If you plan on sticking around longer, please be a dear and not throw anymore bricks, all right?”

And without a backwards glance, Paul fled the driveway, leaving John to miserably ponder the jagged holes in the once pristine glass.


	19. “I Do” – Chapter XIX | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XIX**

“Don’t you wish you could be there to see his face?”

Sitting by the window overlooking the lush garden, John absently fiddled with an unlit cigarette, his nervous fingers twirling it round and round as he stared blankly out the spotless window. He was the picture of an affluent hippie, granny glasses perched low on his aquiline nose with his hair curling around the collar of his shirt, the dark locks stuck in that unkempt stage between short and long, the slightly messy look suiting him nonetheless.

He sat silently, and though he was physically in the room, one look at the expression on his face clearly showed that his thoughts were elsewhere and not on the conversation at hand. Judging from the tense set of his jaw and furrowed brow, however, one could conclude that whatever was on John’s mind was not of a pleasant nature.

“Are you listening to me, John?’” the slightly accented female voice repeated, an edge of annoyance colouring her words.

Eyes blinking slowly from behind round frames, John slowly came out of his head, and with an apologetic smile, he turned to his wife and answered, “Sorry, love. You were saying?”

“I was just saying that it’s too bad that we can’t be there to see his face.”

Tilting his head to the side, John replied, confused, “Who’s face? What are you talking about?” suddenly irritated by the vagueness of the conversation.

With a barely discernable roll of her almond-shaped eyes, Yoko replied, “Paul, of course!” as though it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Who else would I be talking about?”

As the words left Yoko’s lips, John felt an unexpected chill travel down his spine, leaving an uneasy feeling in its wake. Clearing his head with an abrupt shake, he quickly answered with a succinct “Oh,” before turning around to look out the window again.

“What do you think he’ll say when he listens to the record?” Yoko crowed with a gleeful bark of laughter. “He’ll obviously get the message, I’m sure. He’s not that dense, after all.”

Wincing slightly, John remained silent, his eyes trained on the green grass outside as he was hit by a sudden dose of guilt.

“I mean, what was he thinking? Did he believe that he could attack us on his record and get away with it?” Laughing, Yoko rose to her feet and moved towards John, her hand resting on his shoulder as she stopped behind him and looked down at the top of his head. “We certainly showed him though, didn’t we? He’ll know never to throw thinly veiled insults at us again after “Imagine” comes out,” she continued, her voice triumphant.

Face twisting into a grimace, John shook off his wife’s grasp as he exclaimed angrily, “Will you cut it out, Yoko?”

With a look of confusion, Yoko took an uneasy step backwards.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, puzzled. “I thought you were looking forward to this! Haven’t you been anxiously waiting for the album to come out so that you could finally get back at him?”

Unable to meet her eyes, John looked down at his hands instead, twisting the cigarette into a mess of paper and tobacco, bits and pieces of it falling to the polished wood floors.

“Yes, I was,” he mumbled, the low tenor of his voice barely reaching Yoko’s ears. Finally looking up, he fixed the older woman with a piercing stare as he continued, “But this is between Paul and me, Yoko. I don’t know why you’re so invested in the whole fucking thing. Honestly, how does it really affect you anyway?”

Placing her hands on her hips, Yoko stared back at her husband defiantly as she shot back, “Well, sorry, John. I thought we were in this together. After all, didn’t we conclude that many of Paul’s songs were directed at the both of us?” With an angry huff, she turned away slightly, her tense voice cutting through the brief silence as she went on, “Besides, I seem to recall you asking for my help when writing those damn songs. Songs that you wanted to write in the first place!”

Glaring, John turned towards Yoko, voice cold as he retorted, “I recall the incident quite clearly, thank you. However, right now I can’t help but regret the whole bloody thing.”

“What are you saying?” she replied, eyes widening in surprise.

“What I’m saying,” John began as he slowly stood, voice dangerously low, “Is that maybe instead of listening to you and Allen, instead of allowing myself to get fucking egged on by the two of you, I should’ve listened to my gut,” pausing to smile sheepishly he added, “And to Ringo, and forgotten about it!” Eyes narrowing, John slowly turned away, chest constricting painfully as he bit out the words, “Paul and I have already fucked up things between the two of us quite well on our own. We didn’t need outside help to make things fucking worse!”

With one last glare at Yoko, John pushed her gently out the way as he made a beeline for the door, leading out into the backyard, needing to be away from her that instant.

“John!” Yoko called desperately from behind. “I thought you wanted to hurt him, the way that he hurt you.”

Stopping with one foot out the door, John turned slowly and faced Yoko with a pained grimace before answering softly, “Well, maybe I changed my mind.”

And without another word, he slammed the door behind him, lighting a fresh cigarette with shaking hands as he leaned back against the door with an unsteady breath.

With a firm shake of his head, John prowled around the garden, smoking one cigarette after the other and littering his path with the discarded butts, muttering under his breath all the while.

“I shouldn’t feel so bad,” he murmured to himself as he flicked a stream of ashes off the tip of his cigarette. “Yoko is right. He has it coming. After the stunt that he pulled…”

Coming to a sudden halt, John’s shoulders slumped low, looking the perfect picture of dejection as he blankly glanced back at the house behind him.

As he took in a shaky breath, he whispered plaintively, “But was what he did really so bad? I’ve hurt him so much more…” Voice trailing off, John gave himself a violent shake, his eyes closing painfully as he continued in a rough voice, “So much more over the years.”

With a heartbreaking sigh, John turned away from the house and resumed his agitated stroll about the grounds, his feet taking him through the gardens and towards the front, the wrought iron gate coming into view.

Eyes lighting up with purpose, John made a split decision and sprinted towards the cars that lined the curving driveway. His narrowed gaze peered into one expensive automobile after the next as he quickly moved towards his psychedelic Rolls Royce, the sunlight dancing on the vivid swirls of colour that adorned the body of the car.

With a determined look John pulled on the handle, a grim smile curling his lips when the latch clicked easily and the door swung open, allowing him to crawl into the back. His heart thudding wildly, John stretched out across the double bed as he took in deep gulps of oxygen, trying desperately to get his breathing under control.

After he had adequately calmed down, John propped himself up as he reached for the phone, fingers shaking as they made contact with the smooth black receiver. Not allowing himself to think things through, he put the phone against his ear, jumping slightly at the preternaturally loud sound of the dial tone as his fingers frantically punched in a number that he had tried so hard to forget.

Fighting the impulse to slam the phone down in its cradle, John gripped the receiver tightly with both hands, each ring on the other end of the line causing him to cringe visibly. But as the seconds ticked by and the phone continued to ring, John began to lose heart, silently berating himself and the person on the other end who failed to answer his call.

However, just as he was about to hang up, the ringing stopped and was replaced by the sound of a slightly wary male voice.

“Hello?”

John gasped, recognizing the voice immediately. He was taken completely off guard as a pang of guilt and longing ripped through him at the sound, causing his heart rate to double and his breathing to become laboured, the sound of his pants filling the quiet car.

“I can fucking hear you breathing, you know?” came the irritated voice over the phone. “So why don’t you be a dear and tell me what the hell you want before I hang up?”

With a gulp, John closed his eyes tightly as he stammered, “Hi… Paul.”

His words were greeted with silence.

“Paul?” John said, slightly panicked at his mate’s unresponsiveness. “Are you still there?”

He was finally answered with a single word, shock and surprise imbibing every syllable.

“John?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” the older man whispered, eyes closing of their own volition. Injecting his voice with false cheer, he asked, “How are you doing, mate?”

However, the voice over the line remained untouched by John’s attempt at politeness.

“Why are you calling me?” Paul snapped angrily, voice a low growl.

Attempting another crack at being pleasant, John replied with a question of his own.

“Can’t a bloke call his mate up once in a while to see how he’s doing?” he asked, in a teasing voice.

“No, John,” Paul replied shortly, the irritation in his voice crackling through loud and clear. “Two people would have to be mates first before such a thing could be possible.”

“Oh,” John replied, his gaze lowering as he breathed out, “Right.”

A tired sigh filled John’s ears as Paul asked quietly, “What do you want, John?” His voice losing a bit of its earlier bite, he continued, “Because, honestly, I really don’t think there’s anything left for either of us to say.”

“Come on, Paul,” John cajoled, hands gripping the phone tightly. A sad smile touched his face as he said softly, “You know that that’s not true. Things will never be over between the two of us.”

“Yeah, well…” Paul’s voice trailed off. “Anyway, like I asked, why did you call? No matter how casual you may be trying to sound, I know that voice of yours, Lennon. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

With a gulp, John shook his head as he leaned back against the supple upholstery, long legs crossed underneath him. “Well…” he began, hesitantly. “I listened to  _Ram_ …”

“Yes, I am quite aware that you did,” Paul abruptly cut off, voice imbued with a fresh dose of anger. “I do read the magazines, you know.”

“Oh,” John replied, wincing slightly at Paul’s tone. “Well, then, you probably know what I thought about it…”

Cutting John off again, Paul retorted, “Oh, yes. What was it that you said?” Voice accompanied by the sound of rustling paper, he continued tersely, “Oh right, that on first listen it sounded awful, that me first album was better because it had actual songs on it and that they’re  _dribblin’ pop opera jazz_. So, yes, I’m well aware of what you thought about my latest album.”

“Did you happen to read the part that after fixing the record player a bit, it sounded better and that I did enjoy a few of the songs?” John replied sheepishly.

“Oh! Forgive me for overlooking that flattering bit!” the younger man shot back sarcastically.

Anger suddenly coursed through John’s veins. He sat up sharply, his feet landing on the floor with a dull thus as he snapped, “Well, what did you expect, Paul? Did you expect a glowing review after attacking Yoko and I the way that you did?”

“I don’t know why you still can’t get it through your bleeding skull, John,” Paul sniffed. “As I’ve told you before, not everything is about you!”

“Like hell it isn’t!” John exclaimed angrily, fist colliding into the back of the passenger side seat. Head shaking in exasperation, he continued, his voice low. “Fuck, mate. You call pull your innocent crap on the reporters and your fans, but you can’t play that shit with me, so, don’t even try.”

A tired sigh was heard over the line, causing John to gnash his teeth in barely repressed anger.

“Is this why you called, John?” Paul finally asked. “To berate me for imagined offenses?”

Growling, John shouted, “Fucking hell, Paul. Just drop the fucking act. For once, be real with me,” voice reverberating through the confined space.

“And why should I, John?” the younger man snapped. “Because lord knows, that opening up to you only leads to a world of pain. So, forgive me for trying to protect myself just a bit.”

As Paul’s words sunk in, the two men fell silent.

Swallowing thickly, John chocked out, “There was a time when you didn’t have to play games with me, Paul…”

“Well, there was also a time when we couldn’t live with out each other,” the younger man shot back, his angry voice silencing John’s unfinished thought. Faltering slightly, Paul continued softly, “But apparently, things change.”

It felt like hot pokers were being twisted in John’s gut. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward, his forehead resting against the headrest of the passenger side seat as he choked out, “Well, be that as it may, I didn’t call you to bring up past grievances.”

“Right,” Paul replied disbelievingly. “So, why did you call, John?”

With a deep breath, John soldiered on.

“My new record is coming out within a week or two,” he replied. “And well…”

His voice trailed off, unable to articulate what he needed to say. The silence stretched on for a minute or two, until Paul broke the silence.

“John?” he said expectantly, voice ringing loud and clear in the enclosed car.

Cringing slightly, John replied quickly, “Some of the songs may be about you,” his hurried tone causing the words to run headlong into one another in an indistinct mess.

“Oh, John!” Paul sighed, and John could almost see the other man run his fingers through his hair in an agitated manner. “You didn’t?”

Shaking his head ruefully, John answered, “I did. I really did.”

“Not that I can really blame you,” Paul finally said, his voice thoughtful. “But you know what the press will say,  _McCartney-Lennon Feud Heats Up_ , or some such nonsense.”

“I know, I know,” the older man replied with a roll of his eyes, fists unclenching as he leaned back against the bed, pose slightly relaxed. “But after I listened to  _Ram_ ,” he continued with a shrug, “All sense flew out the window.”

Paul sighed on the other end, and John could imagine the younger man’s pose mirroring his own.

“Well, I can’t say that I don’t understand why you did what you did,” Paul replied, “But it’ll just make things a bit more difficult than it already is, won’t it?”

“Trust me,” John shot back. “I know.”

Both men fell silent again, though charge in the air was decidedly less toxic this time around.

Paul broke the silence first, shyly calling out, “John?”

“Paul?” the older man replied, his head tilted to the side, puzzled by Paul’s tone.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture,” the younger man began hesitantly. “But why the warning?”

“Well,” John said with a grim smile and a roll of his eyes. “Let’s just say that the songs may have come out a bit harsher than I had intended.”

“Got it,” Paul replied, as understanding dawned.

“Besides,” the older man continued, grim smile growing into a full-fledged grin. “Those songs were recorded a few months ago. I don’t necessarily feel towards you now the way that I did back then.”

Paul’s rumbling laugh filled the line as he replied with a “Good to know.”

The sound of his old mate’s laughter warmed John throughout, an echoing chuckle bubbling forth from between his lips as he asked, “So, how have you been?”

“I’ve been all right,” the other man answered, sounding relaxed and at ease. Voice suddenly growing excited he added, “I’ve been thinking about putting another band together actually.”

Eyes widening in surprise, John sat up quickly, nearly banging his head against the roof of the car as he asked, aghast, “Are you fucking serious?”

“Well, yeah,” Paul replied casually. “Why not?”

“I can’t imagine going through all that again!” John exclaimed, eyes wide with undisguised loathing. “Always on the road, recording constantly, always having to answer to someone else and be on a bloody schedule. I shudder to even think about it!”

“You forget, John. I’ve always enjoyed all the trappings that go with being in a band,” the younger man reminded gently. “Besides, I miss touring. Don’t you?”

Flashes of illicit moments between the two of them stolen in random hotel rooms, backstage, in the back of planes and touring vans rose unbidden to John’s mind, giving him a moment of pause. His breathing sped up instantly and blood rushed to parts of his body that it had no business rushing to, causing a brief moment of panic to flare up inside the disconcerted man.

Face flushing; John coughed uncomfortably as he tried to suppress the images that swam through his mind as he answered, “Well, I suppose there were some good times.” Pausing momentarily to get his breathing out of control, John finally ground out, “So, who’s going to be in this new band of yours?”

“Well, so far it’s just Linda and I,” Paul replied, his animated voice carrying through the phone. “I’ve also been courting Denny Laine. Hopefully, I can sign him up.”

Brow furrowed, John asked, “Is he that bloke from the Moody Blues?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Paul affirmed. “He’s a fantastic guitarist, and we get along really well. So, I think he’d be a nice addition to the group. And who knows?” Paul said hopefully. “Maybe we could even knock out a few tunes together. I’ve missed having a writing partner.”

John’s eyes instantly narrowed, a tidal wave of jealousy suddenly washing over him.

“I see,” he spat angrily, eyes flashing dangerously. ““Well, best of luck to you, mate. I’m sure you’ll do fabulously.” Pausing, John looked out the window, voice losing some of its heat, as he added bitterly, “You and your new partner.”

“Yeah, well. We’ll see how it goes,” the other man responded noncommittally. “I’m under no illusions that we’ll take the world by storm or anything like that. After all,” he said, a grin in his voice, “The Beatles are a tough act to follow.”

John simply grunted in response, opting to remain silent.

When John didn’t say another word, Paul reluctantly continued, “Anyway, I should get going.” Pausing briefly, he added softly, “It was nice talking to you, John.”

The sour look faded from John’s face at Paul’s words, and with a small smile he replied, “Surprisingly, the feeling is mutual.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Well, you know,” John replied with a grin. “I really can’t be too excited to talk to you since we’re feuding and all that.

Laughing, Paul said, “How right you are.”

The two men fell silent again, but this time it was a comfortable one, neither man willing to hang up just yet.

Grudgingly, John broke the silence as he prepared to say his goodbyes.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you…” he said softly, eyes closing in hope that the younger man would echo the sentiment.

Interrupting quickly, Paul cut in, “Wait…”

Puzzled, John immediately fell silent.

“Thank you for telling me,” the younger man continued, sounding grateful. “It means a lot.”

A bright smile broke out across John’s face, eyes shining happily as he replied, “Don’t worry about it, mate. I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“Be that as it may,” Paul answered with a laugh, “Thank you.” Teasing, he continued, “I’ll try not to be too offended while listening to the album.”

A flicker of surprise moving across his face, John asked, “You’re still planning on listening to it?”

“Of course!” the younger man exclaimed. “I’m naturally a little more than curious about the contents of your album after you took the time to warn me about it. Besides,” he went on in an offhand manner, “How could I not listen to one of your records?”

“Ta, mate” John replied with a grin. Face falling slightly, he cleared his throat as he added, grudgingly, “Anyway, I’ll talk to you later, all right?”

“Sure, John,” Paul agreed, voice sounding slightly wistful over the line. Voice suddenly urgent, he said, “Oh, one more thing.”

“Yeah?” John asked with a surprised quirk of his eyebrow.

“Denny’s just a friend,” came the knowing voice, before adding hesitantly, “He could never replace you,” before the line went dead in John’s hand.

And with a look of shock, John pulled the receiver from his ear and hung up the phone, a happy smile playing about his lips as he lay back on the soft mattress, sunlight streaming through the windows and warming his face.


	20. “I Do” – Chapter XX | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XX**

“I was trying to put it ’round that I was gay, you know – I thought that would throw them off, dancing at all the gay clubs in Los Angeles, flirting with the boys. But it never got off the ground.”

Laughing, the interviewer shook his mop of curly hair, amusement colouring his features as he remarked with a smirk, “I think I’ve only heard that lately about Paul.”

With a grin, John leaned back, his chair teetering briefly on its hind legs as he crossed his arms behind his head, eyes bright with their usual brand of mischief.

Coming back to earth with a thud, John leaned forwards and replied with a wink, “Oh, I’ve had him.” Continuing in a conspiratorial whisper he added, “He’s no good.”

Blushing, the interviewer backed up imperceptibly and with a nervous chuckle he snapped off the tape recorder with an audible click, shaking his head as if to clear it as he sat back and placed his pen behind his ear.

“You do realise that that comment of yours is going to get tongues wagging, right?” he asked with a small grin, as he shook a cigarette into the palm of his hand before offering one to the other man.

“Let them think what they want. If I cared about what people thought, I’d never be able to get a single coherent thought out!” John replied with a shrug, as he plucked a cigarette from the proffered carton. “Besides, makes life a bit more interesting, doesn’t it?”

“Be that as it may, how do you think your old partner is going to feel about it?”

A quick pang of remorse zipped through John’s body, the ends of his mouth falling slightly as the young man’s words sunk in. With a quick shake of his head, John plastered a bright smile on his face, lips stretching a little too thinly and a little too widely, looking out of place on his gaunt face

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” he replied with false bravado. “Paul’s a big boy. He can take it.”

“Well,” the interviewer began, as he knelt on the ground and began tidying up his notes, eyes quickly scanning though the pile of papers he had amassed during the course of the interview. “Readers will probably just chalk it up as another sign of your ongoing feud.”

Eyes narrowing, John’s forced smile dropped again, a frown taking its places as he muttered under his breath, “Yeah, I suppose they will.”

The two men fell silent, the only sound in the entire room coming from the young interviewer as he shuffled his notes, putting the sheets of paper in some sort of discernable order. Eyes narrowed, John puffed away on his cigarette as his gaze wandered around his pristine sitting room, his thoughts clearly a million miles away.

Straightening, the young man sat down across from his subject once more, eyes darting around nervously as indecision warred on his face. With a deep breath, he calmed his fluttering nerves before fixing the older man with a bold stare.

Clearing his throat loudly to get John’s attention, he began in a slightly hesitant voice, “So, John, completely off the record, of course, but just how close were you and Paul?”

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, John turned towards the other man with a slightly blank look, eyes narrowed as the question slowly registered.

Plucking the cigarette from between his lips, he asked in a stream of smoke, “What do you mean?” fixing the interviewer with a hard stare.

Gulping nervously, the young man tried again, his words stumbling over each other as he took a second stab at asking the question he so desperately wanted to ask, though John’s glare made the task more than a little difficult.

“Well, the world knows that you two were best friends, band mates, and songwriting partners, but…”

“That’s all there was to it, mate,” John cut him off with a growl, eyes flashing with something that the interviewer could not place. “I don’t see what more can be said about the subject.”

Sitting up straight, the young man stared back at John, his voice growing stronger as he shot back, “But there have been other accounts. I’m sure that even you have heard the whispers that you two were perhaps closer than you let on to the public.”

“How so?” John asked with a tilt of his head, forcing a perplexed look to his face, though his eyes danced with barely concealed merriment.

“Well, I’ve heard from certain sources that you two were actually lovers.”

Lips twitching, John fought back a smirk as he leaned forward, forcing a menacing expression to his face as he growled, “And what if we were, mate?”

At John’s words, the interviewer’s eyes widened comically, his pulse fluttering noticeably in his throat as he sunk into his chair.

“Are you confirming the rumours then?” he asked breathlessly, as he reached for his pad and pen, eagerly awaiting the other man’s answer.

With arms crossed in front of his chest, John stared back stoically, the expression on his face the complete antithesis of a look of amusement.

“I am neither confirming nor denying the allegations,” he spat, eyes narrowing again. “I just want to know what fucking business it is of yours or anyone else’s.”

Looking as though he had been slapped, the young man’s face flushed instantly, his hands beginning to tremble slightly as he stammered quickly, “John, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”

“Don’t go off being all fucking apologetic now,” John snapped as he stood up, the edge in his voice sharp enough to cut through steel. “I mean, look at you. You’re as nervous as a lad faced with the task of unfastening his first bra. Besides, you asked the bloody question after you had already stopped tape the recorder; so, you obviously had a good idea that it wouldn’t go over very well. Despite what your clueless actions may convey.”

“I’m a journalist, John!” the other man exclaimed as he cowered in his seat. “I could’ve very well asked the question during the interview, but I was courteous enough to wait until after I was done. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“It bloody well does not!” John roared, his hands curling into fists by his side. “You only asked me that question to satisfy some sick curiosity of yours. Maybe tell your chums after you leave that Lennon and McCartney were doing more than just writing a couple of ditties.”

Leaning in close, John placed his mouth against the younger man’s ear as he continued in a whisper, “Do you like getting off to the thought of the two of us shagging each other in the back of touring vans or jerking each other off in seedy hotels across the country? Is that it?”

“Come on, John,” the interviewer protested, his face growing redder by the second as he tried to back away, though their positions left him little room to do so. “You know it’s not like that at all!”

Standing back, John crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at the other man with a quirked eyebrow, the forced look of anger melting from his face despite his attempts at keeping it firmly fixed on his face.

“Then tell me, how is it?” he asked sarcastically, toe tapping impatiently on the white rug. “It’s not like you’re an old pal, a friend from way back. I just fucking met you, yet you had the gall to ask me such a question, as though we were intimate friends. Have you no shame at all, man?”

Wincing, the other man ducked his head as he quickly said, “I’m sorry, John. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Raising his eyes, he pleaded, “Please accept my deepest apologies. I never wanted to offend you.”

John looked down silently, the grave expression on his face melting into one of aloofness, as he replied with a shrug, “All right then. I will just chalk up your intrusive question as a temporary lapse in judgment,” he concluded as he turned away from the seated man, the dismissive gesture meant to hide the twitching of his lips.

“We’re all right then?” the interviewer asked guardedly as he stood, his eyes warily trained on the other man’s back as he reached for his coat, the skittish look on his face indicating a desire to flee the flat as soon as he was able to, without calling attention to his apparent jumpiness.

Shrugging, John turned around again, eyes immediately fixing on the other man’s readiness to leave. With a quirk of his eyebrow, John gestured towards the hallway, ready to escort the other man out, much to his apparent relief.

“Sure, why not?” John began in a surprisingly chatty tone as the two men neared the foyer. “There’s really no reason not to be.”

As he leaned down to put on his shoes, the young man threw John a tremulous smile, nearly causing the older man to choke on a quickly repressed bark of laughter.

As John opened the front door, the interviewer quickly stepped out and with one last expression of farewell, he was nearly halfway to the elevator, when John’s voice made him stop and look back.

“I do have to say one thing though,” John began conversationally as he leaned against the doorframe. “That McCartney had a mouth on him that just wouldn’t quit. The things he could do to you…” John trailed off with a lascivious wink. “I don’t think I’ve gotten a better blow job since.”

The interviewer’s expression was the perfect picture of shock and amazement, his mouth hanging open as John shut the door firmly in his face, his laughter ringing through the house as he leaned back against the door, hands clutched at his sides.

Unable to stem the flow of his gaiety, John stumbled awkwardly through the house, bumping harmlessly into random pieces of furniture as he staggered back through the living room, stubbing his cigarette into a discarded ashtray as he made his way to his bedroom.

With his laughter tapering off into the occasional chuckle, John threw himself onto his unmade bed, the absence of Yoko that particular day giving him license to neglect his usual household chores.

Stretching languidly with a loud yawn, John propped himself up comfortably against a pile of haphazardly arranged pillows, his legs tangling in the tousled bedclothes before reaching over to pick up a discarded issue of Rolling Stone that had been tossed in a heap by the bed, all the while softly chuckling to himself.

His quiet solitude, however, was short-lived, the trill ringing of the phone shattering the comfortable silence. Without turning from the colourful pages propped up on his bent knees, John blindly reached for the handset, a smile in his voice as he answered the call.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” came the crackling response, the familiar voice turning John’s smile into a full-blown grin.

“Macca, darling!” the bespectacled man answered heartily. “How good to hear from you!”

A low chuckled rumbled through the line, followed by the amused words, “Are you fucking high, man?”

“Not at all, dear sir,” John sniffed, an affronted look on his face. “How dare you even suggest such a thing?”

“Well, if you’re not high then it must be something else,” Paul shot back good naturedly. “And there’s only one other thing that could put you in such a good mood, so, my question is: Who did you terrorize today?”

Placing the magazine on the bed, John sat up, a hand clutching his chest as he spoke in mock offense, “I’m hurt,” he began, a tremulous note in his voice. “Are you honestly telling me that the only way you think I’d be happy is if I mortally wounded another human being? That I take pleasure in the pain of others?”

“Honestly, John?” Paul replied, pausing slightly before continuing, “I’d have to say yes.”

“Well, you’re right!” the older man exclaimed, eyes lighting up as he recalled the day’s events. “Fucking hell, mate. I just had the best interview today!”

“Now that does not sound like you at all,” Paul retorted disbelievingly. “You? Enjoying an interview? What parallel universe have I stepped into?”

“Hey!” John protested. “We’ll have none of that now. Is that really so hard to believe?”

“Actually, it is,” Paul shot back. “But I’ll bite. Since when have you enjoyed giving interviews?”

Laughing, John settled back into the pillows, as he crowed, “Since I blew up at the little prick today for asking questions he had no right to ask.”

“Like what?” came the curious voice over the line, the sound bringing a smile to John’s face as he pictured his mate sitting forward in his chair, fingers gently tousling thick dark hair.

“Oh, he was asking me if we had ever been lovers,” the older man replied offhandedly with a roll of his eyes.

His words were met with drop dead silence.

Forehead creasing into a slight frown, John slowly sat up, asking, “Paul? Are you still there?”

“He asked you what?” came the stuttering voice over the line.

“He asked me if we were ever together, you know, in the Biblical sense,” John replied with a roll of his eyes. “As in Sodom and Gomorrah,” he amended, chuckling to himself.

His casual words were met with ragged breathing.

“What’s wrong with you anyway?” the older man finally asked, with a bemused shaking of his head.

With an audible gulp that spanned oceans and continents, Paul said, “What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing,” John retorted, with a roll of his eyes. “I just told him that we fucked each other every which way imaginable the entire time the Beatles were together, and then some.”

“John!!”

“I’m just kidding, mate!” John said with a laugh, as he shook his head in amusement. “I made a big to do about being offended by the question, had the blighter quaking in his boots.”

Paul breathed a sigh of relief.

“After telling him that I had already had you and that you were no good,” the older man continued in a matter of fact manner.

“Fucking hell…” Paul moaned over the line.

“Come on, Paul!” John exclaimed, forcing a note of desperation to his voice “You know that that’s not true. You’re quite the vixen in the sack. I’d wager you’re up there in my top 5 at least!”

The older man broke off with a giggle.

“John, I swear…”

Sighing, John pinched the bridge of his nose briefly as he replied, “Get off it, Paul. I was just fucking around with him. I’m sure he didn’t believe me, so there’s no need for you to get your knickers in a twist.”

Silence fell again, and with a tired sigh, John went back to idly flipping the pages in his magazine, contemplating whether or not he should just hang up as the silence continued to stretch on.

Paul finally spoke, asking softly, “How did the topic even come up?”

With a shrug, John glanced blankly at the colourful photographs in his lap as he related, “I was telling him about my adventures in Los Angeles, about the gay bars and all that. After the interview was over, he asked me about the two of us.”

“Huh,” Paul replied in surprise. “Odd, innit? I wonder what made him ask such a thing.”

“You know,” the older man said dismissively. “People always talk. They see two people as close as we are and the wheels start turning. Besides, it’s not like we were always discreet. I’m sure someone saw something and let it slip.”

“I was discreet, John,” Paul shot back reproachfully. “I always tried to keep things out of the public view; it was you who flaunted it in front of everyone.”

“So, what if I did, Paul?” John ground out, agitation seeping out of every pore. Flinging the magazine to the side, he continued angrily. “Was it really such a bad thing? I don’t know why you have to always treat it like one of your fucking dirty secrets, as if it was something to be ashamed off!”

“I never said I was!” the younger man exclaimed, his voice loud enough to carry throughout the entire room. “But there’s a time and place for everything. And I’d rather my fucking personal life wasn’t on display for the whole fucking world to see!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Mr. Public Relations,” John snorted, eyes narrowed dangerously. “The virtues of privacy coming from the one always keen on giving interviews and posing for the next photograph.”

Paul’s tired sigh sounded through the phone.

“Don’t you understand, John?” he asked quietly. “The more control we exert over our image, the more control we have over what is said in the long run. I don’t enjoy giving interviews as much as you do, but the minute you stop and retreat in to your high rise apartment, is when the speculation starts.” Sighing, he continued, “So, yes. I’ll gladly be Mr. Public Relations if I can have some degree of control over whatever is said about me.”

“Come on, Paul, don’t be so fucking naïve,” John spat angrily. “The press will write whatever they want, regardless of what you do or say.”

“I know that,” the younger man sighed. “I know that I can’t ever truly control what is said about me, but I’d rather not give more fuel to the fire.”

As Paul’s words faded away, the two men fell silent once more, each mulling over what they each had said.

With a rueful shake of his head, John finally spoke, his words sounding dull to both men’s ears.

“Yeah, well,” he began with a slight downturn to his lips. “I don’t think you have to worry about the tosser I was interviewed by today. I think I bloody well scared him enough to never mention the topic again. I know how much you detest anyone airing your dirty laundry.” Closing his eyes, he continued softly, “I should probably get going, Paul, I’m sure there’s something that needs my attention around here…”

“John!” the younger man suddenly broke it, interrupting the words of farewell. “Will you just wait a second?”

“What is it now, Paul?” John groused, a flash of irritation sweeping across his face.

“It doesn’t bother me, you know,” Paul said hurriedly, desperate to get through to the other man. “And I’m not ashamed either. I never was, nor could I ever be.” Pausing briefly, he continued in a soft voice, “You know that, right?”

With a sigh, John grudgingly admitted, “I know, Paul. I know. I’d rather it didn’t get in the press either.” As a grin broke out across his face, John continued, “Don’t think I’d fancy me face splashed across the front page, with “Beatles – Secret Lovers” in bold atop it either!”

A bark of laughter sounded through the phone, causing John’s small grin to grow into a full-fledged smile.

“I don’t think anyone would appreciate that, John,” came the amused reply.

“Can you imagine trying to explain that one to Linda?” John crowed, mirth lacing his voice. “Or having to explain it to the kids?”

“Actually,” Paul began in a hesitant voice, coughing slightly. Mumbling under his breath he continued, “Linda kinda already knows.”

“Wait…” John trailed off, aghast at what had just been admitted. “Did you say that Linda knows? About us?”

“Yeah…” the younger man trailed of uncomfortably.

“I don’t bloody believe it!

“Well, I didn’t exactly set out to tell her!” the younger man exclaimed. “She already knew and called me out on it!”

Eyes comically wide, John knelt on the bed, hands gripping the handset tightly as he sought to control his breathing.

“How could she possibly know?” he ground out, a furious expression etched into his face.

“Come on, John,” Paul answered, his voice disturbingly calm. “As you mentioned earlier, we weren’t exactly discreet about the whole relationship. She probably heard people talking about it in the studio. Besides,” he paused for a second, before rushing headlong into the rest of what he had to say. “I don’t think I could’ve kept it from her for too long anyway. We have a policy about not keeping secrets from each other.”

Mouth falling open, John gasped into the phone, “Even a secret such as this one?”

“Especially a secret such as this one,” the younger man shot back in a firm voice. “I was under the impression that you and Yoko were the same way. I though the two of you aired all of your secrets…”

Trailing off, Paul paused briefly before continuing with a pointed clearing of his voice, “And ceremoniously cleared the decks of all previous relationships and affairs before starting anew with each other.”

Ignoring the jab, John replied, “Well, yes. We did. But this wasn’t exactly a topic that could be broached easily. How in the world does one tell their wife that they were involved in a sexual relationship with their best friend, a best friend who just happens to be a bloke?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Yoko already knows, mate,” Paul shot back. “At the very least, I’m sure she suspects something.”

“No, I don’t think so,” John replied as he shook his head frantically “She would have mentioned it to me if she did!”

“Well, as you so eloquently put it, this isn’t exactly a topic that can be broached easily!”

“Sod off!” John exclaimed; eyes narrowed as he listened to the arrogant tone of Paul’s voice.

Laughing softly, Paul retorted, “Why don’t you just ask her?”

“Oh no! Nothing doing,” John shot back. “That is one topic that is not seeing the light of day. Not whilst I’m sober anyway.”

“What is it, John?” Paul teased; a hint of jollity in his voice. “Not ashamed, are we?”

“Not at all,” the older man replied in a casual tone. “I’d just rather keep you all to myself.”

His answer was surprised sputtering on the other end.

Laughing openly, John said cheerfully, “Goodbye, Paul.”

And with a smile on his face, John placed the receiver back in its cradle, whistling a familiar tune as he turned back to his magazine, flipping the pages as he settled back into the pillows.


	21. “I Do” – Chapter XXI | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XXI**

“Come on Paul, love. Open the bloody door!”

The frantically spoken words were met with stony silence, complementing the pounding of a fist against an unyielding wooden door. With a growl of frustration, he pounded faster and harder, the last particularly vicious thump sending a shot of pain through his tense arm.

With a muffled groan, John let his arm fall to his side as his head fell forward and leaned against the dark wood, shoulders slumping dejectedly. Sighing, he ran a tired hand over his face as he contemplated giving up, unsure of whether or not to keep trying to get through.

However, when he heard the muted sound of footsteps on the other side of the door, a renewed sense of purpose flowed through John. He immediately squared his shoulders and with a look of determination, he resumed his insistent banging, coupled with a well placed kick here and there, hoping that the racket he made would be reason enough for whoever was inside to open the door and let him in.

“I know you’re in there, Macca!” John yelled, his irritated voice echoing through the quiet hallways.

A number of doors opened up at random as curious stares peeked through the cracks, eyes widening as they landed on the cause of the ruckus. More often than not, each of the people belonging to those curious stares simply backed away and shut the door quickly and quietly behind them. No one was willing to incur the acid tongue of the occasionally volatile singer that had taken up residence in the hallway of their hotel.

This was probably the smartest thing to do, because at that point, John had ceased giving a damn about the sanctity of peace and quiet. He simply hammered on, his voice rising exponentially in volume as he shouted out, “So, open this fucking door before I…”

Suddenly, the door flung open, causing John to stumble forward with a muffled gasp as he immediately crashed into something warm and lightly muscled, the two bodies moving through the air as one. However, just when it seemed like they would fall to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs, John felt the other man fall heavily against the doorframe, his spine and the wood colliding with a discernable smack.

As a pained groan filled the air, the bespectacled man looked up sheepishly, his gaze meeting a pair of tightly closed eyes. Wincing, John awkwardly reached down between the two of them and squeezed the other man’s hand in sympathy, the small gesture causing the closed pair of eyes to fly open.

Almost at once, John felt himself get lost in the very familiar hazel depths, his face instinctively moving forward as Paul’s hand tightened, pulling their clasped hands together firmly.

The two men could immediately feel their bodies reacting to their close proximity, each aching to bring themselves ever closer to each other. However, rather than give into their baser desires, they quickly jumped apart without a single word, an awkward tang hanging in the air as they studiously avoided each other’s gaze.

Biting his lip in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture, John stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared down at his feet, unsure about what to do next, until Paul’s voice broke through the silence.

“Does the concept of keeping things down escape you?” Paul finally ground out, an explosive combination of anger and annoyance twisting his usually pleasant features into an expression of pure, unadulterated anger. “Don’t you realise that this is a bloody hotel? Or do you just not give a damn, like with everything else?”

Looking up, John’s eyes widened, an innocent smile breaking out across his face as he replied, “I do give a damn, but I didn’t think you’d ever open the door, so, I had to do something to get your attention.” Cocking his head to the side, he asked playfully, “What else was I supposed to do?”

Paul simply looked back silently, the look of anger and annoyance unwavering.

With a sigh, John shook his head tiredly, squeezing his eyes shut before training his gaze on the man in front of him. Tilting his chin towards the door, he asked, “So, now that you finally opened the door, are you going to let me in or not?”

His expression souring even further, Paul stretched out one arm and barred the way into the suite, eyebrow cocked as he stared his old mate down angrily.

“Do you honestly expect me to let you in?” he snapped, knuckles whitening as he tightened his hold on the doorframe.

Eyes widening in disbelief, John demanded, “Do you really plan on leaving me out here in the cold?”

Rolling his eyes, Paul closed the door completely behind him as he leaned back against the dark wood, arms crossed over his chest as he shot back, “Yes, I think I do.”

“Oh, come on, Macca,” the older man begged, hands clasped in front of him. “I came all this way just to see you. It would be horribly impolite if you didn’t let me in now!”

His words were met with a burst of mocking laughter.

“It would be impolite?” Paul scoffed, with a dry chuckle. “Well, tell me Lennon, what would you call your behaviour yesterday when you ceremoniously slammed the door in my face after I had made the trip over to pay you a visit?”

Rolling his eyes, John crossed his arms over his chest as he regarded the other man with a scathing look.

“You’re not still sore about that, are you?” he asked, his voice taking on a slightly mocking tone.

“What do you think?” Paul snapped, his pose mimicking that of the older man’s.

“Fucking hell, Macca!” John burst out as he threw his arms into the air. “You can be so bloody sensitive sometimes! All I said that it was a bad time…”

“Actually,” the younger man cut in, “I think your exact words were ‘It’s not 1956 and turning up at the door isn’t the same anymore.’”

“Did you not hear the bloody baby crying in the background?” John shot back, eyes narrowing in irritation. “You try dealing with that shit all day and then having to entertain a bloody visitor at the same time.”

With a tired sigh, Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing as he slowly slid down the door, legs curling under him as he sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor. John couldn’t help but feel a pang of remorse as looked down at his friend’s bowed head, the younger man looking like a dejected little boy, completely alone in the world.

“I’ve been there too, you know,” Paul finally whispered, sad eyes now turned upwards into his the other man’s thin face. “I know what it’s like to have to deal with fussy kids, more than one actually. So, don’t act as though you’re the only one who has to deal with shit like that.”

Unable to keep himself from rolling his eyes, John crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall and looked down at his seated mate.

“But you have help and I’m virtually alone in all of this!” he retorted bitterly. “This is my first time actually being there for my child, so, it gets to be a bit too much to handle at times.”

With a sigh, John lowered his lithe frame and sat down, his pose mirroring that of the younger man.

“I suppose its poetic justice, innit?” he snorted with a shake of his head. “I wasn’t there to help Cyn and now I’m forced to raise a child virtually on my own as well.”

Head tilted to the side, Paul shot the other man an incredulous glance.

“Does Yoko not help with looking after Sean at all?” he asked in disbelief, eyes wider than usual.

“Well, she does her best but she can’t always be there, you know?” John shot back immediately, defending his erstwhile wife. “She’s always off doing one thing or another, making business deals all across the globe.” With a forced laugh, he continued, “Sometimes I don’t even know half of the things that she gets up to!”

“But isn’t it mostly your money?”

Turning his torso to face the younger man head on, John simply replied, “It’s our money, mate. There is no his and hers. Besides, it was my decision to stay at home and take care of the homestead. I wasn’t forced into this, Paul.”

“Fine, fine,” Paul shot back with a roll of his eyes. “But even if the money belongs to the both of you, shouldn’t you play a more active role in how it’s being spent and invested?” With a shake of his head, Paul leaned back against the door and rolled his head to the side, throwing John a sideways glance as he continued, “Doesn’t seem like the best idea to allow her to do whatever she wants with it.”

Face flushing angrily; John straightened his back as he ground out, “Are you trying to tell me that I shouldn’t trust my own bloody wife?”

“Don’t get all riled up, I didn’t say that!” Paul instantly replied, hands splayed out in front of him in a placating manner. “I just think that you should have an equal say in what’s being done with your assets. Isn’t that what marriages are supposed to be about? Aren’t both people supposed to be on equal footing with input on important decisions and sharing the responsibilities of a raising a child?”

“Come on, man,” John shot back sarcastically, eyes rolling behind wire-rimmed glasses. “When are relationships ever truly equal?”

“Ours was,” Paul replied simply, head tilted to the side as he looked straight into the older man’s eyes.

A faint blush stole over John’s features under the younger man’s pointed gaze. However, despite his growing uneasiness, John seemed unable to look away and with every passing moment, he could feel himself getting increasingly lost in the younger man’s gaze for the second time that afternoon.

No matter how many years passed by, the effect that the two had on each other remained constant, one look or one simple brush of a hand eliciting feelings that both men tried so hard to forget.

Finally Paul tore his eyes away, his face nearly as flushed as John’s, something that the older man took quiet pleasure in. With a shake of his head, John too turned away as he silently berated himself for letting Paul’s hazel eyes wreak havoc on his senses.

Once he had regained control over himself, John threw his old partner a sideways glance, narrowed eyes taking in the telltale signs of Paul’s nervousness, the younger man unknowingly biting his bottom lip as he twisted the wedding ring on his finger.

A brief pang of regret shot through John when he caught sight of the simple piece of jewelry, so unlike the one that had graced the younger man’s finger not too long ago. John quickly closed his eyes to banish the images that rose unbidden to his mind, but try as he might he could not erase the scene of himself happily placing a ring on Paul’s finger on a balmy Indian afternoon, wide eyes shining up at him in happiness.

“Yeah, well, be that as it may,” John finally spoke, the strain in his voice causing the younger man to throw him a questioning look. “I’m just not the businessman type, Paul. I did the whole money management thing before with Apple and all that nonsense; it didn’t turn out too well, if you can recall.” With a slight shrug, John leaned back against the door again, his shoulders lightly brushing Paul’s before adding, “I’m a musician, and I like to keep it that way.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not much of a musician these days either from what I hear,” Paul muttered under his breath.

Eyes narrowed, John threw the younger man a furious glare as he snapped, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me!” Paul shot back, calm eyes meeting a pair of stormy ones.

“Why should I?” the older man ground out. Poking the younger man in the chest he spat, “You’re the one who said it!”

Looking down at the slim finger briefly, Paul batted John’s hand away as he answered with a roll of his eyes, “What I meant is that you, the self-proclaimed musician, haven’t picked up a bloody guitar in ages!” As John opened his mouth in protest, Paul quickly continued on, fixing the other man with a pointed look. “And don’t you deny it! News of your self-imposed retirement has become a well-known fact.”

“So fucking what?” John shot back, arms crossed over his chest, as he threw the younger man an icy glare over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses.

“So what?” Paul parroted. “I’ll tell you what! Music is who you are, mate! How you can willingly give it up is fucking mind boggling!”

“Well, I have more important things to take care of now, like a bloody son!” John raged, voice shaking with barely repressed anger. “You saw what happened last time I tried having a family and being a fucking rock star! I completely fucked up the one thing that should’ve mattered the most! I’m not letting it happen again.”

“I’m not saying that you should be traipsing all over the world, touring and all that, John,” Paul answered quietly; his calm voice and countenance in direct contrast to John’s increasingly outraged behaviour. “But to stop making music completely? It’s not you!”

John slowly got to his feet, hands clenched into fists at his as he stared down at Paul, the angry expression on his face sending a small jolt of apprehension through the younger man.

“What do you know?” he spat, as he tightened his hands, the nails leaving crescent-shaped indentations in his palms. “Do you think that life fucking stands still? I’m not the same guy that I was before! Maybe you’re content with reliving your glory days, but I’m not. I have more important things to take care of than prance about onstage like a puppet on a string.”

“Oh, come on, John…” Paul sighed tiredly, as he stood, hands on his hips as he faced the older man head on.

“I just can’t do it anymore, Paul. I really can’t,” John continued, his voice growing increasingly frantic. “I just can’t fuck it up again. I can’t, I won’t, be my father.”

The two men fell silent at John’s desperate words; Paul’s understanding gaze locked on John’s distressed one. With a sigh, Paul rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly feeling more tired than he had in a long time. Reaching up, he grasped the other man’s hand in his own, tilting his head upwards to look into John’s downturned face.

“You won’t be your father, John,” he said quietly as he squeezed the older man’s hand gently. “I just know it. I’ve seen how you are with Sean and I know that you won’t leave him. You’re going to be a great dad.”

“You don’t know that,” John whispered, eyes tightly closed. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know you, Johnny,” the younger man replied with a small grin. “Probably better than anyone else and you can be one hardheaded son of a bitch. Once you have your mind set on something, there’s nothing in the world that can sway you.”

Eyes flying open, John chuckled softly before squeezing Paul’s hand in response and sitting down again, his back up against the door as a small smile played along his lips.

“And for the record, I do not prance!” Paul continued, with a stern glare. “I may sashay, occasionally strut, but in no way do I prance.”

With mirroring grins, John and Paul burst into laughter, the tense moment quickly dissipating under their shared mirth.

Smiling, Paul turned sideways fixing the older man with a curious look.

“Do you miss it at all?” he asked, with a slight tilt of his head.

Eyes widening slightly, John threw Paul an incredulous look.

“Now that’s a bloody stupid question!” he exclaimed, with a roll of his eyes. “Of course, I do. I might not miss touring as much, but I certainly miss making music. Honestly, you can’t do something nearly your entire life and not miss it!”

“My mistake,” Paul answered with a laugh, shaking his head in amusement.

A comfortable silence descended upon the two men as each got lost in his own thoughts. Mulling over the exchange of words they had just shared, John and Paul were relieved that a potentially explosive situation had been effectively diffused, neither wanting their newly rekindled friendship to suffer any more damage.

Looking around the hotel hallway, John breathed a sigh of relief, before glancing over at his old partner, the other man’s face upturned and eyes closed against what the hotel passed off as muted lighting.

With a smile, John nudged Paul to get his attention, asking, “What about you? Ever think of packing it in?”

Opening his eyes, Paul turned his head to address the older man, replying with a noncommittal shrug, “Not really. I mean, we take the kids along with us wherever we go, so, it’s not like I’m missing out on seeing them grow up.” Chuckling lightly he continued, “So, as long as this body is able to withstand the rigors of touring and all that, I think I’ll continue on.”

Leaning back, John cast an appraising eye over the younger man’s body, raking him over once or twice, much to Paul’s amused embarrassment.

Winking exaggeratedly, John growled in mock bravado, “And what an attractive body it is, too.”

Unable to stop the blush that stained his cheeks, Paul laughed in slight embarrassment as he gave John a light shove.

“Oh, stop it!” he declared. “I bet you say that to all aging musicians.”

Throwing an arm around Paul’s shoulders, John replied, “Only you, love. Only you.”

His words led to a round of raucous laughter, prompting the opening and closing of various doors along the hallway, the inhabitants of said rooms widening their eyes at the sight that greeted them: Two ex-Beatles practically rolling around on the floor, arms clutching their sides as each laughed uproariously.

Unwilling to disturb the pair, the unseen folk closed the doors behind them, smiles on their own collective faces, one thought prevalent in their minds.

The two finally calmed down after a few minutes, and with identical grins, slowly rose from the floor, an errant chuckle escaping their lips here and there. After brushing themselves off, the two faced each other, suddenly shy and unsure of what to do next.

Squaring his shoulders, John affected a casual pose as he asked, “So, are you going to let me in now?”

“I don’t know,” Paul replied, as he leaned against the doorframe. “Are you housebroken?”

Giving the other man a pointed look, John said, “What do you think?”

“I’m thinking not…”

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” John said with a wave of his hand. “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

Shaking his head with a smile, Paul shot back, “I’m going to hold you to that, you know.”

As he reached out to turn the doorknob, he was quickly stopped by a hand on his own. Turning in surprise, Paul looked into John’s suddenly serious expression.

“I never meant to make you feel unwelcome, Paul,” the older man said softly, eyes downcast. “I was just a bit overwhelmed when you stopped by. You know how I get sometimes, always acting before thinking things through. I’m sorry if you felt that I didn’t like your visits.”

Shaking his head, Paul replied, looking somewhat shamefaced, “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have just shown up like that. No one likes an unexpected visitor in the middle of the day!”

“Damn it, Paul!” John exclaimed, exasperated. “I’m trying to apologize to you here! Stop trying to take all the blame!”

Bursting into laughter, Paul clasped the older man on the shoulder, as he replied hastily, “All right, all right. I accept your apology. And in the future, I promise to call before showing up on your doorstep.”

“Ta, love.”

As an afterthought, John leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Paul’s cheek, his lips lingering a little longer than necessary. The younger man froze; eyes widening comically as his mouth opened and closed multiple times, giving John the opportunity he needed to push open the door and finally step inside.

Before Paul knew it, John was halfway through the suite, his cheery voice carrying over to him as he remained immobile on the doorstep.

“Come on, mate,” the older man called out, as he looked over his shoulder. “Stop standing about! We have a mini bar that is just begging to be broken into!”

And with a shake of his head, a wide smile broke out on Paul’s face as he followed John into the room, closing the door quietly behind him.


	22. “I Do” – Chapter XXII | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XXII**

“Why are you wearing a button that says, ‘I love Paul?”

Looking down at said button, John briefly looked up at the man standing next to him, exchanging twin smirks and a surreptitious wink before turning back towards the woman who had stopped them on the street.

Fixing her with a haughty look, he shot back, “Because I love Paul.”

Opening and closing her mouth multiple times, the woman did the perfect imitation of a fish out of water. She sputtered, turned red, and widened her eyes, all in direct succession but she seemed wholly unable to voice a coherent thought.

With mirroring grins, the two men quickly walked away, erupting into a peal of laughter when they were barely out of earshot.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, you know? Paul said with a laugh, hazel eyes dancing merrily as he glanced over at his walking companion.

Face the picture of innocence, John placed his hand over his chest, affecting an offended pose as he asked, “What are you talking about? All I did was tell her the truth!”

“Sure, you did,” Paul shot back with a roll of his eyes. “ However,” he continued. “Now the poor bird is going to have to reevaluate everything that the media has ever told her about the Beatles unable to stand the bloody sight of each other!” Bowing his head, Paul wiped away an imaginary tear. “I just don’t know how she’ll cope.”

Allowing himself a small smile before hardening his features in mock seriousness, John replied, “Well, that should teach her. Never trust the news!”

Exchanging a look of false sympathy, the two men burst into another round of laughter, the sounds of their hilarity traveling through the crisp New York air and causing their fellow passerby to turn their heads towards the commotion. Seeing the pair of bundled up figures traipsing through the snow covered streets, no one gave them a second glance, their eyes crinkling in slight amusement before turning away and carrying on with whatever was on their agenda for the day.

As his laughs died down to a chuckle, John threw his mate a sideways glance as he asked with mild curiosity, “So, how long are you going to be in New York?”

“Just a few days,” came the reply. Turning to face John, Paul continued, “I have some business to take care of concerning our upcoming US tour and since it’s not going to be a fun trip, I decided to come alone. No point in dragging Linda and the kids along if I don’t have to.”

Dark eyes lighting up briefly with a spark of hope, John replied with a succinct, “I see.” Clearing his throat, he went on to add, “Well, I’m glad you called. I was starting to go a little crazy in that apartment with no one to talk to but a bloody toddler.”

“Glad I could be of service,” Paul laughed, with an amused shake of his head. Sitting down on a low brick wall that circled the west side of Central Park, he looked up at John and asked curiously, “Where is Sean, by the way?”

“Oh!” John exclaimed, with a sly grin as he joined the younger man on his perch. “I just locked him up in the bathroom so that he wouldn’t get into any trouble while I was out.”

With a look of mild alarm, Paul exclaimed, “John!”

“I’m kidding, Macca,” the older man replied with a chuckle. Throwing Paul a mischievous look, he added, “There is no way that I would lock him up in the bathroom! The closet is a much better option.”

Grinning, the younger man slugged John in the arm as he said, “You’re fucking nuts, you know that?”

“Yeah, but that’s why you love me.”

And with a light blush, Paul turned his head away with a laugh.

A comfortable silence descended upon the two men, each taking in the sights of the slowly darkening park as they sat close together, their shoulders brushing every so often. Unable to stop the grin that broke out over his face, John turned towards Paul and cast an appraising look over the younger man, his probing glance alighting upon the slight differences in Paul’s appearance. For the most part, the younger man looked as youthful ever; his only allowance to the passing of time was the slightly longer hair with a light touch of gray at the temple. Unable to turn his eyes away, John continued to stare unabashedly, not caring if the other man turned and caught him in the act.

After a few minutes of silence, Paul turned towards the older man, hazel eyes widening slightly when met with John’s intense gaze. He smiled hesitantly, to which the older man answered with his own grin.

“You hungry?” John asked, as he bumped Paul playfully with his shoulder.

“Starved, actually.”

Jumping up from the wall, John grasped hold of Paul’s hand and pulled him to his feet as he exclaimed, “Come on, I know a place.”

Linking arms with an amused Paul, John hauled him in the direction of 71st street, zigzagging through a brisk crowd of pedestrians to hurry them towards their destination before the sun set. A few short minutes later, the two came upon a green, red, and white striped awning and a large, wooden door that was slightly ajar, the faint sounds of glassware clinking and muted conversation with a touch of opera wafting into the street outside.

Turning towards John with a raised eyebrow, Paul commented dryly, “Very Italian.”

“You haven’t even seen the beginning of it!” John replied with a chuckle as he grasped the ornate brass handle and pulled open the door.

All it took was one step, and the two men felt as though they had stepped into a completely different world.

Eyes lighting up in pleasure, Paul breathed in heavily, savouring the soft sounds of Puccini and the smell of freshly brewed espresso. A small smile curled his lips as he took in the aged wooden tables and chairs, mouth starting to salivate at the sight of the delectable pastries in the glass case.

“This place is amazing,” Paul breathed as he turned towards John, “It reminds me of…”

“The little cafés in Paris. I know.”

“Bloody hell!” the younger man exclaimed in amazement. “It’s like I’ve gone back in time! I can imagine myself being 19 years old all over again, the two of us stepping foot in our first Parisian café, with no fucking clue on how to behave properly.”

“If I can recall correctly, Macca, we did all right,” John answered with a grin, pleased that the place was to Paul’s liking. With a wink he added, “There certainly wasn’t a lack of beautiful women throwing themselves in our path.”

Laughing, Paul clasped John on the shoulder, as he leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially, “They probably saw us as a couple of fucking innocent, impressionable youths eager to be corrupted.”

Turning his head to the side, John whispered back, “And right they were.”

Not moving away, Paul’s hand unknowingly tightened on John’s shoulder as he continued to look around the café and drink in the surroundings. His breathing hitched slightly as he inhaled deeply, catching John’s familiar scent as he did so.

It was an aroma that was pure John, and with a gasp, Paul stumbled back slightly, his hand falling from John’s shoulder as he did so.

Lost in his own head, the older man failed to notice the spot of bother that had befallen his mate, and with a nervous smile, he turned towards Paul and said quietly, “That’s why I love coming here, actually. The whole place just brings back so many fond memories.”

Straightening quickly, Paul plastered an even smile on his face, the calm expression bellying the stormy look in his eyes. Swallowing thickly, he replied, “Never thought you were the reminiscing type, love.”

“What can I say?” John answered with a shrug. “Even I miss the old days sometimes.”

Suddenly, an older Italian man came over to the pair, an expression of welcome on his face as he exclaimed, “John! It’s so nice to see you again.” Gesturing towards a table in the corner, he asked. “The usual?”

“Hi, Vinny,” John greeted warmly, as he reached out to clasp the other man’s hand in a firm handshake. Glancing towards his companion briefly, John leaned in close and whispered, “Actually, can we get something a little more private? Maybe out in the garden?”

Eyeing up John’s companion, a small smile lit up Vincent Urwand’s features when he recognized the familiar face, but wisely remained silent.

“Of course, John,” he said instead, calling over his shoulder as he moved away from the two, “Please, follow me.”

With a flourish, Vinny pushed back the curtain that kept the outside patio from view, leading them into, what could be called by all accounts, a secret garden in the middle of New York City. Tall walls enclosed the little oasis, with plants and flowers of all colours and scents crowding around a small alcove that house a few occupied tables. Tiny fairy lights sparkled all around, lighting up the area as the sky darkened above them. Vincent directed the two men towards a small round table in the corner that was set slightly apart from the other diners, the warm flicker of candlelight beckoning them closer.

Once they were settled in their seats with the first round of cappuccinos ordered, John and Paul opened up their menus, the younger man instantly intent on the specials of the day. Having perused the menu countless times before, John’s attention quickly strayed from the task at hand, his eyes peeking over the top of his menu, heart starting to beat a little faster at the sight of his old mate, a look of deep concentration etched into his unlined face, eye scanning the print before him.

Suddenly, Paul looked up, catching John red-handed. Not knowing what to do, the older man simply blushed before quickly looking down, much to the other man’s amusement.

With a shake of his head over the older man’s antics, Paul asked quietly, “Do you know what you want?”

John’s eyes widened at the innocent question, afraid that what was on his mind was written plainly on his face.

“Wh-what?” he stuttered as his cheeks reddened even further.

“Do you know what you’re going to order?”

Forcing himself to calm down, John cleared his throat noisily before answering sheepishly, “Oh, right.” He squinted at the small print in the low light briefly before replying, “I think I’m going to get an éclair and another cappuccino.”

“Sweets for dinner?” Paul asked disapprovingly. With a smirk, he added, “You know that what you eat you are but what is sweet now turns so sour…”

“Piss off,” John retorted good-naturedly with a roll of his eyes. Smirking, he added, “Look, I’ll have a bowl of lettuce for dinner tomorrow, will that make you happy?”

“Exceedingly!”

The two fell silent again as the young waiter brought over two cappuccinos, the nervous lad shaking slightly as he placed the cups on the table, causing a little of the hot liquid to slosh into each saucer. The two men exchanged an amused glance over the boy’s head, waiting for him to depart before chuckling amongst themselves.

“Poor lad,” Paul said with an amused shake of his head. “He looked about ready to bolt!”

“It’s you, you know,” John replied cheekily. Leaning forward he whispered, “You’re ever so intimidating!”

Rolling his eyes, Paul favoured the older man with an incredulous look. “Right,” he drawled. “That’s me all right. I’m a total scare.”

With a light chuckle, John brought his cup to his lips and sipped the liquid slowly, savouring the rich taste of the espresso as it rolled around on his tongue.

Much to Paul’s amusement, a small bit of foam stained the older man’s top lip, and with a laugh he reached over and wiped away the white foam with his finger.

At the first feather light touch, John locked eyes with the younger man as he darted out his tongue and slowly sucked Paul’s finger into his mouth. Freezing slightly, Paul allowed the small transgression before quickly pulling his hand away, his body tingling all over from the unexpected, intimate contact. He threw the older man a shell-shocked, wide-eyed look, one that John missed completely.

Instead, as if nothing had happened at all, John asked evenly, “So, how’s life treating ya, mate?”

Still internally shaking from the moment that had just passed, Paul shook his head vigorously to regain some semblance of control before pasting a forced smile on his face and answering, “Life has been good, can’t really complain,” he said with a much too casual shrug. “I’ve got a new album coming out in a few months.”

“Figures,” John replied with roll of his eyes and a grin.

Ignoring the slight jab, Paul continued on with a stern look, “Linda’s great, as are the kids.” Feeling a bit more like himself, Paul leaned back in his chair, slender legs spread out before him as he added, “It’s fucking amazing, man. I still can’t believe how fast those little buggers grow up!”

“I know what you mean,” John replied as he shook his head in wonder. “It seems like Sean’s growing a fucking inch every other day! I can hardly keep up with the bloody kid.”

“He’s doing good though, right?”

“Oh yeah,” the older man said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He’s happiest little kid I’ve ever seen. Asks questions nonstop, but I’ve learned to tune him out if need be.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Paul asked, “And Julian? He must be a teenager by now, right?”

“Yeah, I imagine so,” the older man muttered in response, eyes clouding briefly.

Puzzled at the sudden change in John’s mood, Paul tilted his head to the side as he regarded the older man with a probing look.

“What do you mean?” he asked curiously. “Don’t you keep in touch with him?”

With a heavy sigh, John ran his hands through his hair, visibly pained as he whispered, “I try, but…”

“But what?”

Face twisted into a look of sudden anger, John locked narrowed eyes with the younger man, slamming a fist down on the table as he ground out, “Sometimes I just don’t know what to say to the kid! Every time I pick up the damn phone to call him, I end up slamming it back down again.”

“Come on, John,” Paul replied calmly, as he leaned forwards, arms aching to pull the older man into a tight embrace. “He’s your son! I’m sure there’s plenty that you two could talk about!”

“Right,” John spat bitterly. “Like, “Hey Jules! Remember me? It’s your deadbeat father who cheated on your mum, abandoned you time and time again, remarried and had another son, for whom he decided to change his entire life for so he could watch him grow up!” Lowering his head, John cradled it on his folded arms, his pained whisper just barely reaching Paul’s ears. “I wouldn’t blame Jules at all if he fucking hated me!”

With a stricken look on his face, Paul quickly reached over and grabbed hold of John’s hand, squeezing it tightly as he said, “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

“I would.”

“Come on, you’re his father!” the younger man exclaimed. “How could he possibly hate you?”

Lifting his head, John fixed Paul with a pained stare as he whispered, “For the same reasons that I hate Freddie. For abandonment and a whole slew of other injustices.”

“John,” the younger man sighed. “Don’t beat yourself up over this, you were young. We all were. Maybe you could’ve handled things differently, but what did any of us know about raising a kid at that age?” Reaching out Paul cupped the side of John’s face tenderly, his thumb gently caressing the stubbled skin as he continued softly, “You did the best that you could and I’m sure he’ll understand one day. But in the meantime, talk to the kid. Let him know that you still love him and that you’re always thinking of him, despite the ocean that separates the two of you.”

As Paul talked, John had slowly raised his head, both men now leaning towards each other over the table, barely an inch separating them. John was overcome with emotion, guilt and pain mingling with the effects of Paul’s nearness and wreaking havoc on his already fragile state of mind. Without thinking things through, he suddenly leaned closer and captured Paul’s lips with his own.

At first touch, John groaned low, the taste of espresso and something so uniquely Paul bursting on the tip of his tongue. He reached out and cupped the back of Paul’s neck, his fingers tangling in the soft hair, relishing the feel of his skin underneath his fingertips.

As John’s kiss deepened, Paul unconsciously returned it, lost in the sensations much in the same way that his partner was. He felt the stirrings of his baser desires, feelings that he had been able to repress in varying degrees of success over the years, though all it took was one kiss for them all to come barreling out again.

With a gasp, Paul opened his eyes and untangled himself from John’s grasp. Wide-eyed and breathing heavily, he stared back at his old mate, whispering furiously, “John, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Fucking hell, Macca,” the older man seethed, an angry flush stealing over his cheeks as he fought to suppress the feelings of rejection that had immediately surfaced when Paul pushed him away. “What do you think?”

“We’re fucking married, John!” Paul exclaimed, his anger rising to meet the challenge that John’s posed. “To different people, for fuck’s sake! Doesn’t that mean something to you?”

“Of course, it does!” John shot back, his hands clenching into fists. Voice softening somewhat, he added, “But I thought…”

“You thought what?” the younger man snapped, eyes flashing angrily.

“Well, here you are on a trip to New York, by yourself, and the first thing you do is come by to see me!” John practically shouted. “What the fuck am I supposed to think?”

Breathing deeply in an attempt to calm down, Paul forced himself to relax as he countered somewhat calmly, “I just wanted to see my mate, John. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”

“Of course not!” John snapped. “Nothing is ever a big deal to you, is it?”

Eyes narrowing, Paul gripped the edge of the table tightly, his brief sense of calm washed away under a wave of anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he ground out.

“It’s just that even when we were together,” John shot back, an eerie calm settling over his features, “You never did think of the relationship as being a big deal.”

“Fuck you, Lennon! What do you know?”

Unbeknownst to the two men, their furious whispering, coupled with the occasional mild outburst, had caught the attention of their fellow diners. Curious faces turned in their direction, abandoning their pastries and steaming cups of coffee in favour of the drama that was taking place in their midst.

After a few minutes of whispering amongst the cafés patrons, Vinny quickly walked towards the back of the garden, and placing a hand on his favourite customer’s shoulder he asked, “John, is everything okay here?”

The sound of the kind voice startled the two men out of their furious exchange, causing them to immediately notice the curious stares directed their way. With a growl, John shrugged off Vinny’s hand and without a backwards glance; he pulled his coat from the back of his chair, and stalked out of the café, slamming the door behind him.

With an apologetic smile, Paul dropped a few bills on the table, grabbed his coat and with a muttered apology, followed quickly behind.

Stepping outside in the cold spring air, Paul quickly scanned the surrounding area, searching for John. It didn’t take him long until he found his errant best mate leaning up against the next building, casually smoking a cigarette.

Seeing red, Paul stalked up to the older man, voice shaking furiously as he spat, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The only response he got was a lazily exhaled smoke ring, sent spiraling towards his face.

With a look of disgust, Paul waved the air in front of him, dissipating the nicotine laced smoke as he ground out, “It never fails, man. It never fucking fails. You always think that you can do whatever the fuck you want and when it doesn’t go the way you want it to, you just close yourself off!” Throwing his arms up in the air, he exclaimed angrily, “I’m fucking tired of your bullshit, man!”

“You know what?” John shot back as he flicked the cigarette butt to the sidewalk and ground the still glowing embers underneath his boot heel. “Fuck you, Paul. I don’t need to answer to you.”

“Like hell, you don’t!” the younger man replied from between gritted teeth. “You owe me a fucking explanation!”

Turning his head away, John chose to remain silent, not quite trusting himself yet to speak. He stared at the streetlight, at the passing cars, even at a random pothole in the middle of the street, his eyes settling on any random object in the vicinity instead of the on the person standing bereft before him.

Shoulders slumping, Paul shook his head in defeat as he began to turn away, saying in a quiet voice, “I don’t even know why I came here.”

Eyes following the younger man’s partial departure, John finally called out, “Why did you then?”

“You know why,” Paul replied, as he turned back around to fix his old mate with a tired look. “I wanted to see you.”

“Did you even stop to think that the feeling might not be mutual?”

With a derisive snort, Paul shot back, “Well, considering the fact that you just kissed me back there, I’d say that it was.”

Gritting his teeth, John clammed up again, nostrils flaring as he sought to control his anger and annoyance at the younger man. His fingers fumbled in his pocket for another fag, but when his hands came up empty, he was unable to keep himself from flinging the carton halfway across the sidewalk, growling in frustration.

Sighing tiredly, Paul ran a shaking hand over his face, as he asked quietly, “Why’d you do it, John?”

“Because I wanted to,” came the simple reply, voice tight with barely disguised frustration.

“What about what I want?”

With a bark of laughter, John turned a disbelieving gaze on the younger man, eyes rolling as he snorted, “Please, Paul! Who the fuck are you trying to fool here?” Shaking his head sadly, he added, “You can tell yourself anything that you want, but don’t fucking lie to me. You wanted that just as much as I did!”

“No, John,” Paul contradicted, the bitter taste of the lie he told palpable on his tongue as the words left his lips. “I didn’t.”

“Bullshit.”

Turning his back to the older man, Paul’s shoulders heaved violently as he sought to get a hold of his emotions, his words coming out in slow succession as he tried to regain some semblance of control over himself.

“What is it that you want from me, John?” he finally asked, voice barely above a whisper. Turning around he fixed John with a pleading look as he continued, “Just tell me, because I’m a total loss here. I thought that we were friends.”

Lips curling into a smirk, John shot Paul a look of disdain as he retorted, “Friends? Are you fucking kidding me?” Disbelief imbuing every word, he snapped, “Do you honestly think that we could ever be just friends?”

“I don’t see a problem with it,” the younger man shot back with a shrug of his shoulders, a calm mask settling over his features.

“Man, then you’re even more of a git than I ever gave you credit for.”

At John’s biting words, the two men fell silent, the sound of their laboured breathing the only thing colouring the night air. With a sigh, Paul started pacing the sidewalk, his shoes pounding the ground in military fashion in a last ditch effort to gather his wildly scattered thoughts. He dared not look at the older man lest he lose his nerve, but he knew that if he stalled any longer, John would simply walk away, never having been the type to wait around patiently.

Finally, with a pained grimace, Paul stopped directly in front of the older man, his hazel eyes blackened by the dark night sky. Taking in a deep breath; he peered into John’s face, swallowing hard at the thinly veiled hostility that came off the other man in waves.

“John,” he began, voice a pained whisper. “There was a time when all I ever wanted was for you to see me as an equal, not just the little kid who followed you around everywhere. When you took me on as your musical partner and friend, I was fucking ecstatic. But when we became…”

Paul’s words trailed off, an unsure look etched into his face as he warred internally with himself, already regretting the honesty of his words thus far. With a shaky breath, he squared his shoulders, and trudged on, for once damning the consequences and saying exactly what needed to be said.

“More than that, it was a bloody revelation,” Paul continued on with a look of determination, his voice stronger than when he had started. “I never thought that I could ever feel for someone the way that I did about you.” Face clouding over, he moved in closer to the immobile older man, and placing his angry face directly in line with John’s blank one, he spat, “So don’t you dare tell me that I wasn’t in as much as you were and that what we shared wasn’t a big deal to me. It was and always will be.”

The two men stared at each other intently, both breathing heavily as Paul’s words circled the air around them. Try as he might, John could not tear his gaze away, entranced by the fire that danced in the younger man’s eyes. As it was, it took every fiber of his being not to reach out and grasp the back of Paul’s neck and pull him in for a second ill-advised kiss.

Blinking furiously, John suddenly noticed the movement of the younger man’s lips, the sound of his harsh whisper finally permeating John’s lust and anger-addled brain.

“But when you fell in love with Yoko,” Paul ground out feverishly, “And abandoned the rest of us in favour of her, I didn’t think I’d survive. I didn’t know how to move on without you by my side, the fact that you were no longer in love with me paraded in front of my eyes on a daily basis.” Leaning in ever closer, Paul whispered, “Do you have any idea how much that fucking hurt?”

A red haze washed before John’s eyes, and with a hard shove, he pushed the other man away, causing him to stumble back a few steps.

“Bloody hell, Paul,” John snapped, hands clenching and unclenching again in quick succession. “Are you still carrying that fucking cross?”

Grabbing hold of a light post, Paul kept himself from falling to the ground, righting himself quickly as he shot back, “Fuck you, John!” he cried. “Maybe you don’t give a fucking damn, but I didn’t just lose the man that I loved, I lost my fucking best friend. So, excuse me for still holding onto the past!”

Forcing himself to calm down, Paul inhaled sharply as he pushed himself forward, stopping a few feet in front of John with his hands spread out in front of him. With an imploring look, Paul looked up at the older man and tried to meet his gaze as he said softly, “I never thought that we could ever salvage any part of our relationship and then somehow we did. So, right now, I’m just happy that I have my best friend back”

Eyes downcast, John finally looked up, anger now replaced with something almost indefinable, the mixture of pain and regret that showed on Paul’s face now mirrored in the older man’s.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be friends,” John replied, voice wavering slightly.

Paul fell back as though punched in the stomach, an expression of horror and disbelief etched in perfect detail on his face. Wild hazel eyes stared into a pained darker pair, as he said, “What are you saying, John? How can you not want to be friends?”

Pushing himself off the brick wall, John stalked closer to Paul, his body tense as he stared his old mate down, biting out. “Because every time I see you I can’t help but want what we had before!”

“You’re the one who ended it, John,” the younger man shot back, face twisting into a grimace. “Not me!”

Hands balling into fists, a brief wild thought of finally striking the younger man flitted through John’s mind, but the desire to do so was gone as soon as he could name the sudden violent reaction that flared up within him.

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” he ground out as he advanced on Paul slowly, causing the younger man to stumble backwards, a flicker of fear traveling up his spine. “You think I don’t fucking regret everything that happened?” Prodding Paul in the chest, he snapped, “You try living with yourself, knowing that you singlehandedly fucked up the one best thing in your entire life.”

Face crumpling; Paul reached towards the older man, his hand grasping a tense forearm.

“John…” he breathed, as he tried to pull the other man into his arms. “Don’t…”

“No, Paul! I can’t do this anymore!” John cried as he shook off the other man’s hand. He pushed past the younger man, eyes wild as he stared back, his words uttered in a pain-filled gasp. “I love you, all right. I always have. From the minute you walked up to me at the fete, I knew that you would be a part of my life.”

John ran a shaking hand through his hair, the fingers grasping it in handfuls as he continued in a choked voice, “At fucking 16 I knew that I would love you, whether I realized it consciously or not at the time. But after everything that we’ve shared, there is no way in hell that I can just be friends with you.”

“So, you’re just going to throw all of this away again?” Paul called out desperately, eyes filling with tears. “After we worked so hard to repair all the damage that we inflicted on each other, are you willing to make it all for naught?”

With a look of naked regret, John looked into Paul’s eyes, his words tumbling from his lips in desperation, “I’m sorry, but we both want different things. You’re happy with the way things are, but I want more. I’ll always want more.”

And without a backwards glance, John fled the darkened street as Paul stared at his retreating back, face twisted into an expression of abject pain.


	23. “I Do – Chapter XXIII | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XXIII**

“Paul? What are you doing here?”

Eyes widening in surprise, John slowly rose from his spot on the bed as he threw his book to the side, unable to look away from the wild hazel eyes of the man who stood shaking in front of him. Stepping forward hesitantly, he reached for Paul’s hand, wincing at the unexpected coldness of the younger man’s skin, the cold clammy feeling completely out of place in the bedroom as the sultry heat wafted through the large windows in his beachfront bungalow.

“Are you all right, Macca?” John asked softly as he gently pressed Paul’s hand, looking into the younger man’s blank gaze and silently hoping to see a flicker of life within their depths.

Blinking slowly, Paul’s eyes finally lost their lifeless look, much to the older man’s relief. However, just as John was about to pull Paul over to the bed, the younger man turned his head towards John’s concerned face and with a choked sob he leaned forward and captured the older man’s lips with his own, kissing John with a desperate passion unlike any that either man had ever felt before.

Taken by surprise, John froze briefly and dropped the younger man’s hand, allowing Paul to snake his arm around John’s waist and pull him closer, his mouth moving insistently across John’s as his fingers glided across John’s bare, sun-kissed skin.

Moaning into Paul’s mouth, the older man threaded his fingers through Paul’s hair, the silky strands falling through his fingers as he allowed the younger man’s tongue entrance into his mouth, his lips closing around it and sucking it in further, much to the younger man’s pleasure. Their hands moved restlessly, John pulling at Paul’s shirt while Paul ran his nails down John’s naked back, low moans sounding in the room as their lips sucked, kissed, and licked without hesitation, the two getting lost in a haze of unadulterated lust.

Finally, with a groan, John broke away, the sound of their heavy breathing complementing the steady sound of their increased heartbeat. The grip that each man had on the other, however, did not loosen, their arms still wrapped tightly around each other’s bodies with Paul’s hand resting on John’s hip while John’s gripped the back of Paul’s neck. Piloting purely on instinct, the two men moved ever closer, their foreheads resting against each other with their eyes tightly closed.

Though a billion thoughts flew through John’s mind, he wisely remained silent, swallowing the barrage of questions that danced on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he enjoyed the feeling of being in his mate’s arms, waiting impatiently for Paul to speak first.

“I’m sorry,” Paul finally whispered after a few moments of charged silence, his eyes opening briefly to look into John’s before quickly darting away, a red flush staining his cheeks.

“What for?” John whispered back. Lips curling upwards in a crooked grin, he added, “Are you apologizing for the kiss? Because I have to admit that although I was a bit surprised by the enthusiastic greeting, I was in no way disappointed by it.”

Paul shook his head with a low chuckle, the hesitant laughter quickly melting into a choked sob. Paling, the younger man quickly turned his head away, unable to meet John’s inquisitive eyes.

“Hey now, what’s all this?” the older man asked, as he tilted his head downwards, looking at the younger man in concern. “What’s the matter?”

With a shake of his head, Paul simply closed his eyes, a lone tear traveling down his cheek as he tried to break free of the older man’s embrace.

Tightening his hold, John placed a finger underneath the younger man’s chin and raised his face upwards, concerned eyes meeting a pair of tear-filled ones.

“Come on, Paul,” the older man cajoled, soothingly. “What’s wrong?”

With a shaky breath, Paul looked straight into John’s face, whispering painfully, “I can’t believe I nearly lost you.”

“What are you talking about?” John uttered slowly with his head tilted to the side, a curious expression on his face. “I’m right here, Paul.”

Unconsciously tightening his hold on the older man, Paul whispered frantically, “What if something had happened? What if you hadn’t made it through? I could’ve bloody well killed myself if something had happened to you on that fucking boat! And to think that the last time I saw you we had a bloody asinine fight!”

Leaning back to get a better look into Paul’s face, John asked with raised eyebrows, “How did you know about the storm?”

“Fred called me.”

The expression of confusion deepening even further, John untangled himself from Paul’s embrace and backed up a few steps, his hands planted firmly on his hips as he regarded the younger man with a perplexed look.

“Wait,” he began, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fred called you? My Fred? Since when did the two of you become mates?

Running a hand through his hair, Paul started to look a little uncomfortable, his eyes darting from one side of the room to the other as he answered, “Since you started avoiding my calls and discarding my letters.”

“So, you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” John replied with eyebrows raised, a grin threatening to overtake his features.

Fixing the older man with a sheepish look, Paul muttered, “I’m sorry, I know that I was out of line, but you weren’t talking to me anymore and I got a bit desperate.” Eyes widening in supplication, he added, “I felt really bad about it, if that makes it any better.”

“Don’t worry about it,” John replied breezily, shrugging in a nonchalant manner.

Backing away from Paul, he turned back towards the bed and resumed the position he had been in before the younger man’s wild-eyed entrance, his long legs crossed underneath him as he picked up his hastily discarded book.

Standing open-mouthed in the center of the bedroom, Paul simply stared at John’s downturned head as he absently flipped through the book in his lap, wholly confused at the lack of anger that was usually an inherent part of the older man’s demeanor. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably and jammed his hands into his trouser pockets, suddenly feeling a bit fidgety and hot under the collar. His gaze temporarily strayed towards the window, the bright turquoise waters beckoning him seductively as the heat permeated his long sleeved shirt and slacks. With a shake of his head, Paul quickly turned away and resumed staring at John in abject confusion; head tilted to the side as he regarded his casual, unaffected pose.

As Paul internalized the scene before him and tied himself up in knots over the situation, the older man was simply amused at the fact that the usually confident Paul McCartney was reduced to a pile of nerves. John could feel the intense stare upon him, but he chose to ignore it, having too much fun making his old mate squirm for the time being.

After a few minutes of silence, Paul hesitantly moved forward, eyes trained on John as he stammered quietly, “That’s it? You’re not mad or anything?”

“Of course not,” the older man replied, as he unceremoniously tossed the book to the floor. Looking up at Paul he continued with a rueful smile, “I know that I’ve been incommunicado as of late…”

“I don’t blame you, mate,” Paul quickly broke in, as he joined John on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling over the side. Turning towards the other man with an apologetic smile, he continued, “After what happened the last time we saw each other, I really could not blame you for wanting to have nothing to do with me.”

Waving his hand dismissively, John replied, “Forget about it, mate. It’s in the past. No bloody point in holding onto things that really don’t matter anymore.”

Eyes widening in surprise, and then narrowing suspiciously, Paul turned towards the older man and asked, “Okay, who the fuck are you and what have you done with my John?” With an amused shake of his head, he added, “My John would never have uttered such a statement.”

“Do you want me to be a prick then?” the older man retorted with a scowl. “Because I have no problem reverting back if that’s what you want.”

“No!” Paul quickly cut in, as he placed his hand on John’s shoulder. “I like this John a lot better! Please, carry on.”

Throwing a quick sideways glance at the hand that so casually clasped his bare shoulder, John turned back towards Paul’s face with an ill-disguised grin.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he began with a stern look. “I know that things haven’t always gone well between us, and I know that a lot of it is my fault.” Shaking his head regretfully, he continued, “I’ve always just assumed that you would want what I want, and when things didn’t go the way that I had planned, I’d lash out at your unfairly. And that was wrong of me.”

Pausing, John turned completely sideways, causing Paul’s hand to fall away. Without a second thought he placed his own atop the younger man’s leg as he looked plaintively into a pair of downcast hazel eyes.

“So, what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry,” John said softly, with the barest hint of a smile.

Looking up, Paul turned an inquisitive look on the older man, his head tilted to the side as he stared back silently, face nearly expressionless. Not a word fell from his lips; creating a ball of nervousness to grow within the pit of John’s stomach. His fingers unknowingly kneaded the soft flesh of Paul’s thigh as he grew increasingly agitated as the silent minutes ticked by.  
Swallowing inaudibly, John finally asked, “Aren’t you going to say anything, Macca?”

Suddenly a bright smile broke out on Paul’s face, causing the older man to practically jump back, the happy look taking him completely by surprise. Noticing John’s shock, Paul shook his head in amusement.

“I’m sorry too, love,” the younger man finally said, eyes bright. “I never meant to hurt you either, but it seems like every time I see you, that’s what I end up doing.”

With a rueful shake of his head, John lay down on his back, dark eyes staring at the ceiling fan as it lazily stirred the slightly humid air.

“I think we’ve both done our fair share of hurting the person we love,” he replied, eyes moving towards Paul’s face.

The two men fell silent; the faint sounds of children playing in the surf and the distant caw of a seagull drifting into the quiet room from the outside.

After a few moments, Paul slowly shook his head, a look of amazement on his face as he uttered one word, “Wow.”

With a questioning look in his eyes, John tilted his head sideways on the soft bed to get a better look at Paul’s face as he asked, “What is it?”

“That…” Paul began, as he threw the older man a hesitant smile. “Well, that went a lot better than expected.”

Grinning cheekily, John propped himself up on his elbows as he retorted, “How do you reckon that one out?”

Rolling his eyes at the older man’s antics, Paul replied, “Well, for one thing, I expected there to be a lot more yelling, some crying even. But this,” he paused, as he shook his head again. “This was definitely not what I had prepared myself for.”

“So, you’ve taken to preparing yourself for conversations beforehand then?” John asked, his eyebrow raised mockingly.

“Only for conversations with you, love,” the younger man shot back. “Not that it always helps, you’re fucking unpredictable, mate.”

“Thanks, I pride myself on that you know.”

Laughing, Paul retorted, “Wanker.”

“And damn proud of it.”

The two men lapsed into silence again, John’s eyes traveling towards the window as Paul fixed his gaze on the older man’s lounging form, head tilted to the side as he stared down with a critical eye.

Feeling the other’s gaze on him, John turned back quickly and caught Paul in the act, causing the younger man to blush and lower his eyes briefly before looking back up again.

“You look different,” he stated without preamble.

With raised eyebrows, John glanced back down at himself and asked, “In a good way or a bad way?”

“I don’t think you could ever look bad, John,” Paul shot back without thinking twice.

And with a well-practiced smirk, John pushed himself up further and locked eyes with the younger man, as he said with a slow wink, “Are you flirting with me, Mr. McCartney?”

The ever-present blush deepening, Paul quickly dropped his eyes, a red flush traveling down the back of his neck as he studiously avoided eye contact, much to the older man’s amusement.

Chuckling, John flopped back down again, his eyes never leaving Paul’s face as he continued, “Well, I suppose I do look a bit different. When Fred first saw me, he acted as if he didn’t even recognize me! Can you fucking believe that?” Eyes rolling, John added, “He said that I had lost the pallor I had acquired over that last five years at the Dakota and that I no longer looked like a man suffering from a fucking degenerative illness.”

Looking towards John again, Paul threw himself down on his stomach with a grin, legs up in the air as he propped his chin up on his upturned hands and looked down at the older man.

“Lovely bloke, that one,” he replied, chuckling lightly.

“He is though, isn’t he?” John retorted. “I can always count on old Fred to say the nicest things.”

Throwing the other man an appraising glance, Paul replied, “He’s right though, you do look good.” Nudging John gently with his elbow he added with a smirk, “You’ve finally got that bloody tan you worked so hard for in Greece, but never quite managed to get.”

At Paul’s complimentary words, John looked down at his arms, frowning slightly as he muttered, “I don’t think Liverpudillians are meant to be this brown though. It’s bloody unnatural.”

“Don’t fret too much,” Paul replied with a laugh. “Once you’re back in New York you’ll be back to pale and pasty in no time.”

“Thanks ever so.”

The two men chuckled, exchanging bright grins before awkwardly turning away from each other, the short moment of merriment fading into one of self-conscious introspection. Paul turned his gaze to the headboard in front of him, while John resumed his study of the ceiling fan above, both men lost in their own heads as they contemplated their next move, their next words, neither wanting to say the wrong thing lest they disturb the tenuous peace that they had unexpectedly achieved.

With a sigh, John finally turned towards Paul, smirking at the look of utter concentration on the younger man’s face as he stared at the ornately carved wooden board, a brief flicker of adoration flitting through John at the sight.

Shaking his head to dislodge the emotion, he finally said, “I’m not looking forward to going back, you know? As much as I miss Sean and Yoko, I’m fucking loathing the thought of returning to that fucking ivory tower.”

Turning his face towards John, Paul moved on to his side and propped himself up on his elbow as he listened to the older man’s words silently.

“When I was on that fucking boat,” John continued, eyes bright, voice brimming with undisguised excitement. “It was like I had never lived before then. I mean, all my life I’ve dreamt of having my own boat, so, it was like a bloody dream becoming reality.”

With a smile, he moved on to his side as well, his pose mimicking that of Paul’s as he went on, the words tumbling out of his mouth in quick succession.

“I mean, there I was,” he went on to say, the expression of exhilaration growing in intensity with every passing moment. “Alone at the helm as 20 foot waves crashed down, with nothing but my grip on the wheel and a yellow Sowester for protection. I never felt so bloody alive! Even when it felt like I wouldn’t make it, I knew that I would. I knew that I could fight fucking Mother Nature and win.”

Face alighting with pride; he added softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever believed in myself as much as I did at that moment.”

Paul continued to silently look on; digesting the older man’s words as he internally warred with himself, fighting the growing desire to close the gap between their lips. Pasting an encouraging smile on his face instead, Paul was the perfect picture of an enraptured listener, nodding at all the right places, his slightly darker than normal eyes the only indication of what was really on his mind.

However, John failed to notice the predicament that his mate was in, and with his voice softening, he locked a serious gaze on Paul’s face and said, “And when I was up on that bloody boat, fighting for survival, I realised something, something that has eluded me all my fucking life.”

Face clouding briefly, John faltered. He was suddenly unsure of whether or not to continue, afraid of what the other man’s reaction would be to his uncharacteristic soul baring. However, looking into Paul’s eyes, he finally saw the ill-disguised love and pride that shimmered within the hazel depths, giving him the brief jolt of courage that he needed. So, with a deep steadying breath, John continued hesitantly.

“Life’s fucking short, mate,” he whispered, eyes downcast. Looking up, he gave Paul a self-deprecating smirk as he quickly added with a chuckle, “It’s not the most original thought, I know, but it’s true.”

Sobering quickly, John turned his suddenly serious gaze towards the window behind Paul’s back before focusing on the younger man’s face again, lips curled into a crooked smile.

“It doesn’t matter what fucking problems you have with the people in your life,” he began, “You should never, ever let them feel as though you no longer care about them.” Leaning forward, he ghosted a finger along Paul’s cheek, slowly drawing an imaginary line down the younger man’s jaw. Dropping his hand, John continued with an apologetic smile, “You should never be too proud to say that you’re sorry because you never know when you or your loved ones might leave this plane of existence. And I’m tired of living with so many regrets, Paul,” he shook his head ruefully, eyes downcast before looking up and fixing the younger man with a hard stare. “And sadly enough, most of them are concerning you.”

Taking a deep breath, John closed his eyes briefly before looking at Paul with determination shining on his face.

In a strong voice he said, “I’m sorry Paul. I’m sorry for all that I’ve put you through, for all the harsh words that I’ve lobbed your way, and for making you feel as though you no longer mattered to me. I never meant to…”

The rest of John’s words were suddenly lost as Paul tackled John to the bed, his lips finding the older man’s and effectively cutting of the his thoughts mid-sentence. John’s eyes widened at the unexpected assault, his thoughts completely shutting down the minute that Paul’s mouth captured his own in a kiss borne of passion and desperation.

John responded on pure instinct, his lips moving in tandem with the other man’s, tongues touching, lips caressing. However, the fog that clouded John’s mind was lifted when Paul’s hands tentatively ran along John’s bare chest, the new, yet familiar sensation, bringing John back to his senses.

Breaking away, he fixed Paul with an exaggerated scowl, trying to ignore what the sight of Paul’s tousled hair and bruised lips did to him, not willing to be distracted from what needed to be said, no matter how enticing a picture Paul painted at that very moment.

“Fucking hell, mate,” he groused instead. “I was in the middle of something big there!”

Smirking, Paul wrapped his arms around John’s waist and brought him closer in lieu of a spoken response, hands settling in the dip of his mate’s lower back as his fingers lazily drew circles along the bare skin. Paul sweetly kissed the corners of John’s open mouth, the soft lips travelling down the older man’s face and kissing a path towards his neck, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Feeling his heart accelerate, John almost gave in to Paul’s ministrations, eyes closing as the sensations washed over him, desire flaring up within.

Biting back a moan, John whispered breathily, “Are you even paying attention to me?”

“Uh huh,” Paul answered absently as he tugged on John’s earlobe with blunt teeth, before licking along the outer edge.

“You’re not a very convincing liar, mate.”

Moving his mouth away, much to John’s disappointment, Paul leaned back and fixed the older man with a serious look, darkened eyes meeting a pair whose appearance matched his own.

Paul tilted his head to the side, gaze softening as he began softly, “You talked about not having regrets and about making sure that the people you love know how you feel about them.” Eyes brightening, he added, “And that you have to do your best to make sure that you never end things on a bad note. Is that about right?”

Eyes widening in surprise, John stammered, “Yeah, that’s about right.”

“Good,” the younger man echoed with a nod. Reaching for John again he continued, “Because I’d really like to get back to more important things.”

Dodging Paul’s grasp, John asked quickly, “Not that I’m not enjoying myself, but what is this, Paul?”

Dropping his hands, Paul pulled back with a sigh. Sitting up, he ran a shaky hand through his disheveled hair, his wrinkled button down shirt riding up slightly and exposing his stomach as he did so.

With a deep breath, he looked down at John, and began softly, “John, the last time I saw you, I fucking lied to your face, and I haven’t been able to forgive myself for it.” Closing his eyes, he continued in a tight voice, “Yes, I want to be friends with you, life hasn’t been quite the same without my best mate by my side.”

Opening his eyes, he threw the older man a soft smile before adding, “So, that part wasn’t the lie, but I wasn’t being entirely truthful about not wanting more. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how things were before. Nor have I ever stopped wanting what we once had again. I don’t want to live with any regrets either, John.”

Reaching out and grasping the older man’s hand in a tight grasp, he said softly, “I love you, John. I always have and I more than likely always will.”

Face breaking into a mischievous smile, John gave Paul’s hand a hard tug and pulled him down on top of him, causing the younger man to let out an unmanly yelp as he fell against John’s lithe form.

Glowering, Paul propped himself up on his hands and groused, “Now, was that really necessary?”

Reaching up and pulling the younger man’s face down, John breathed, “Actually, no. But the expression on your face was fucking priceless. Now be a dear and kiss me, love.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Paul captured John’s lips with his own, both men groaning as they fell back into their familiar rhythm, mouths caressing each other in ways that neither man had forgotten, hands tugging at clothes and caressing naked skin as is on instinct, never forgetting the things that each man enjoyed.

With a sigh, Paul sucked John’s lower lip into his mouth, gently biting down as John ran his hands down the younger man’s chest, fingers clumsily attempting to undo the small buttons. With a muttered curse, he pushed the younger man away, and sat up, crossing his arms in irritation.

“Wha…?” Paul gasped as he nearly tumbled to the ground. Standing on the floor, he looked down at the older man in confusion.

“This just isn’t working out, Macca,” John grumbled. Gesturing towards Paul’s half undone shirt, he added, “You’re just going to have to do it yourself.”

Laughing, Paul pulled the shirt over his head and threw it across the room before asking, “Is that all?”

With a put upon sigh, John stared pointedly at Paul’s trousers.

Shaking his head in amusement, Paul unzipped his fly, toed of his shoes, and quickly divested himself of the offending article of clothing. With hands on his boxer-clad hips, he looked down at John, eyebrow raised.

“Do you expect me to undress you as well?” he asked, with a grin.

Smirking, John replied, “Well, that would be a lot of help.”

Chuckling, Paul sat down on the edge of the bed and fixing the older man with a teasing smirk, he quickly straddled John, eliciting a surprised gasp. Staring into a lust-filled gaze that mirrored his own, Paul leaned forward and kissed John hard on the mouth before trailing kisses down a stubbled jaw and smooth throat, pausing to lick and nibble the exposed flesh every now and then.

With a moan, John closed his eyes and fisted the bedspread on either side of him as Paul moved further still, a rough tongue licking across his chest before swirling around a puckered nipple and sucking it into his mouth.

Groaning, the older man grasped Paul’s head, his slender fingers taking hold of the silky strands and tugging the hair roughly as Paul bit down hard. Grinning, he lifted his head and stared into John’s heavily lidded eyes, the grin growing wider at the irritation that flickered across the older man’s face.

When John tightened his hold on Paul’s hair and tried to push him down again, the younger man pried his grip off with a laugh and quickly darted away from the grasping hands.

“Bloody impatient, aren’t we mate?” the younger man whispered between peppering kisses along John’s chest.

“Fucking hell, Paul,” the older man groaned, head rolling from side to side. “Stop being such a prick teaser!”

With a laugh, Paul leaned down again, fingers dancing along the edge of John’s low-slung trousers, his lips following the same path with feather light kisses. Glancing up briefly at the sound of a particularly loud moan, Paul smiled as he slowly unzipped the other man’s trousers, kissing every inch of skin that was exposed as he pushed the garment down John’s legs, and revealing him completely to Paul’s hungry gaze.

He looked up again, startled to find a pair of dark eyes trained on him unwaveringly. With an audible gulp, Paul quickly lowered his gaze as an expected bout of nervousness hit him. With a deep breath, he leaned down, sweeping his tongue along John’s length, the familiar taste and scent assaulting his senses. Inhaling sharply, Paul ran the tip of his tongue along the underside of the older man’s cock, alternating short with long sweeping strokes.

His ministrations seemed to have the desired effect, as the touch of his tongue ripped a moan from deep within John’s throat, his fingers blindly reaching for Paul’s head again and tangling in the dark tresses. His hips rose from the bed as he slowly fucked Paul’s mouth, the younger man loosening his throat muscles instantly to accommodate the girth and length of John’s cock. With every thrust, Paul let his teeth gently scrape along the bottom as his tongue swirled along the tip, catching the few drops of pre cum that seeped out.

The taste of it caused Paul to groan low in his throat and his eyes closed of their own volition, his tongue relishing the few drops before darting out for more. He licked the sensitive tip of John’s cock to the sound of John’s moans, each lust-filled sound fueling Paul’s actions. With a quick look at John’s face, the younger man took the entire shaft into his mouth and began sucking in earnest, his hand wrapping around the base and moving in time to the movement of his mouth.

John’s breathing came in erratic gasps, the beating of his heart out of control as Paul increased the speed of the up and down motion of his head. When it finally became too much for John to handle, he came into the younger man’s mouth a groan, head falling back against the mattress as strands of sweat-soaked hair fell into his eyes. With a smirk and a wink, Paul looked up at John and when he caught the older man’s tired gaze, he swallowed, causing John to let out another moan.

Smiling, Paul crawled up the bed and kissed John soundly on the mouth before stretching out alongside him, his lithe frame curled into the older man’s side as he pillowed his head on John’s shoulder, an arm and a leg thrown over the older man’s lower half.

The two lay on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, both men entirely too tired to move.

Looking down at Paul’s dark head as it rested on his bare skin, John said with a smirk, “Well, I see that you haven’t lost your touch,” his fingers lazily drawing indistinct shapes on the limp arm that lay on his stomach.

“What can I say, I’ve been practicing,” the younger man replied flippantly, a hint of humour in his voice.

Raising an eyebrow, John’s hand stilled as his gaze hardened.

“What was that?” he asked, slowly starting pull away.

Tightening his hold around the older man, Paul chuckled, “Nothing, John, love. Nothing at all.”

Silence fell between the two men, each enjoying the closeness that they had not shared in a very long time. John’s eyes started close and his breathing leveled out, slowly falling into delicious slumber, his hand grasping Paul’s arm as he pulled the younger man even closer.

However, as John slowly fell asleep, Paul’s mind whirred, the stillness of his countenance hiding the fact that his thoughts were working overtime, questions and concerns coming together in a frightful jumble. Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, Paul’s grip tightened around John’s waist, his action met with a sleepy satisfied sigh.

“John?” the younger man finally said hesitantly, his eyes closing tightly as his breathing sped up nervously.

Still caught somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, John answered sleepily, “Yeah?”

With a deep breath, the younger man asked, “What are we doing here?”

As the words permeated his sleepy haze, John’s face clouded almost instantly, a frown furrowing his brow as he slowly attempted to sit up.

Looking down at the younger man’s head he snapped, “Regretting it already? Fucking hell, mate. That was fast, even for you.”

As John continued to struggle to get up, Paul simply tightened his grip, pinning the older man down to the bed as he cried in exasperation, “I didn’t say that, John!”

“But you were going to, weren’t you?” John snapped, his hands balling into fists on the bed. “I don’t fucking believe this! I can’t believe I got myself pulled into this bloody nonsense all over again.”

His temper rising, the younger man rose from the bed and shot John a furious glares as he ground out, “Will you just wait a bloody second?”

“Fuck you, Paul!” John shouted, as he stared back, dark eyes glaring daggers at the younger man. “You were the one who came to me this time! You fucking initiated it. So, if you’re going to start blaming me for what happened here, then you can fucking…”

Pinning his arms to the bed, Paul straddled John’s waist before leaning forward and kissing him with bruising force, effectively shutting the older man up. At first John fought back, bucking his hips in an attempt to throw Paul off his body, but when Paul simply tightened his hold on the older man’s wrists, to the point of actually hurting him, the older man grew still, his traitorous lips responding to Paul’s.

Finally, the younger man broke away, the two men glaring down at each other with bruised lips, chests heaving in tandem.

Leaning down, Paul stared into the older man’s dark eyes as he ground out furiously, “Now, you listen to me, Lennon, because I don’t want you to fucking misunderstand me this time. I love you, all right?”

John’s eyes widened at Paul’s forcefully spoken words, though he thankfully remained silent.

“God help me, but even after all these years I’m fucking crazy about you,” the younger man continued, his gaze softening slightly as he loosened his hold on John’s wrists. Shaking his head, he added, “I don’t regret what just happened, not one fucking bit, so, for once, can you just look beyond your own fucking insecurities and just accept the fact that I’m here because I want to be and that I’m not going anywhere?” Glaring down again, he asked, “Can you do that?”

Staring up at the younger man with an ill-disguised smirk, John nodded slowly.

“Is that your only response?” Paul asked as one eyebrow rose. “A bloody nod?”

“Sorry,” John replied with a shrug of his shoulders, smirk growing wider by the second. “But I couldn’t really concentrate properly with you all angry and half-naked lying on top of me like that. It’s quite the turn on, love.”

With a groan, Paul rolled off John’s body into a sitting position; his legs crossed under him Indian style as he stared at the headboard in front of him.

“I was being serious, John,” he said tightly without turning to look at him.

Looking slightly apologetic, John moved onto his side and placed his hand on Paul’s knee as he looked into the younger man’s eyes beseechingly.

“I know you were,” he began quietly, “And I know that we have a lot of things to figure out, but can’t we just have this moment to ourselves?” Shaking his head regretfully, John continued, “I know that I didn’t make things any easier by fucking jumping to conclusions, but all of our problems and the reasons why this is wrong and why we shouldn’t be doing this will be still be there whenever we decide to get out of this bed. So, can we please just be? For once?”

Turning to look into John’s hopeful face, Paul cracked a small smile as he asked, “You promise we’ll talk about this later?”

“Scout’s honour,” was the cheeky reply.

“You were never a boy scout, John,” Paul shot back, glaring down at the smiling man.

Patting the other man on the knee, John simply said, “Details, love. Details!”

With a laugh, Paul just shook his head in mock exasperation, looking towards John with a curious look when he felt a tug on his hand.

“Lay with me, love?” John asked softly with a welcoming smile.

Answering John’s grin with one of his own, Paul nodded his assent as he curled into John’s body once more, pillowing his head in the exact same spot that it had been before as he threw arm around the older man’s torso, John’s own arm snaking around Paul’s back and holding him tight.

As the younger man got comfortable, John asked, “How long were you planning on staying?”

“I hadn’t actually given that much thought,” Paul replied with a yawn, eyes fluttering closed, the activities of the afternoon coupled with his non-stop flight, finally taking their toll. Prying open his bleary eyes, he continued, “I didn’t really waste much time after I spoke to Fred. I just knew that I had to see you and there was no time to waste. I didn’t even think to pack a bag!”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem!” John chirped, grinning wide.

“And why is that?” Paul asked,

“Because I wasn’t planning on letting you get dressed anytime soon anyway!”

Paul replied with a sleepy laugh, his face burrowing further into John’s chest as he tightened his hold on the older man’s body, bringing them as close as possible.

“Do you think you can stay a few days?” John finally asked hesitantly, a nervous look on his face as he closed his eyes. “It would be nice to catch up.”

Yawning widely, Paul muttered drowsily, Sure, I don’t see why not. I could use a bloody vacation, actually.”

John’s answer was a full blown smile.

“Great!” he exclaimed, trying to, but not succeeding in, keep the excitement out of his voice. “This place is bloody fantastic, mate!” he replied enthusiastically. “There’s just so much I want to show you. I mean, the bars alone will…”

John excited words were met with a loud snore.

Tilting his head to the side, John looked down into Paul’s sleeping face, long eyelashes lying against smooth fair skin, a small smile playing on his lips. John gazed back, a mirroring smile breaking out on his own face.

And with a light kiss to the back of Paul head, John burrowed deeper into the soft mattress, his eyes closing as he followed the younger man in slumber, arms tightening around the man in his arms.


	24. “I Do” – Chapter XXIV | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**XXIV**

“I’m fucking knackered.”

With a satisfied sigh, John leaned back against the pillows, eyes closing as he stretched languorously, back cracking delightedly as he worked out the kinks.

Paul simply looked up from the foot of the bed and smiled in response, a Cheshire-like grin breaking out over his handsome face at the sound of John’s satisfied moans as he crawled up the bed and placed feather light kisses along the older man’s bare chest before situating himself by John’s head, bare back leaning against the headboard.

Reaching blindly towards the nightstand, Paul snatched up an almost empty pack of cigarettes, placing the remaining two between his lips and lighting them with a flick of the lighter before handing one to John, the older man gratefully accepting it with a smile.

Leaning back with a cocky grin, Paul exhaled a stream of nicotine-laced smoke before replying smugly, “Ta, mate.”

With a roll of his eyes, John simply took another drag of his cigarette, eyes traveling the length of the room as he took in their surroundings, memories of the last time that the two of them had been ensconced in the room’s familiar opulence flitting through his mind.

Shaking his head, John leaned over the side of the bed, grounding the remainder of his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray as he remarked, “Never thought we’d be back here again.”

“What are you talking about?” the younger man asked as he threw John a curious glance. “Never thought we’d be back where?”

“In this hotel,” was the succinct reply.

Growing increasingly puzzled, Paul turned towards the side and fixed the older man with a probing glance. “The Plaza Hotel?” he asked. “This is where I usually stay when I’m in New York, John, you know that.”

With a roll of his eyes, John shot back, “I just meant that it’s been a while since the two have us stayed here together.”

Eyes widening in realization, Paul breathed, “Not since…”

“The fucking unending years of horror, more commonly known as the years of bloody Beatlemania,” the older man replied somewhat bitterly, eyes narrowed slightly.

Laughing, Paul lay down with his head comfortably pillowed on John’s stomach as he looked up at the ceiling.

“I wouldn’t say that, John,” he began with a knowing smirk. “I’d say that we had more than our share of fun to offset the trappings of super stardom.”

Grinning down at the upturned face, John replied, “Can’t argue with you there, love.” Shaking his head in disbelief, he continued, “I still can’t believe we got away with as much as we did without getting caught, despite Brian fucking breathing down our bloody necks!”

“I’d wager that he knew that something was going on during those early years,” Paul mused, forehead wrinkling slightly in thought. “Otherwise, why would he have separated the two of us and made us bunk with either George or Ritchie instead?”

Sitting up, Paul looked down at his mate’s supine form, hazel eyes meeting dark brown. With a small smirk, he added, “If it weren’t for those two agreeing to switch rooms with us every now and then, we would’ve had a hell of a time making it work.”

With a mischievous grin, John cheekily replied, “Remind me to drop them a thank you card later.”

Shaking his head with a roll of his eyes, Paul continued, “Either way, I’d say we did all right, in spite of all the bloody obstacles.”

“That’s because you were fucking insatiable,” John crowed, as he ran a finger down the center of Paul’s chest. “You couldn’t keep your bloody hands off me.”

Slapping the older man’s hand away, Paul shot back, “Are we remembering the same trip?” eyes wide with incredulity. “Because I seem to recall being the one hauled into empty dressing rooms and having to dodge a particular Beatle’s wandering hands during nearly every press conference and interview.”

A look of mock anger flitted across John’s face, as he exclaimed, “I can’t believe Ringo would do such things! Of all the nerve!”

“Dear god,” Paul groaned in exasperation, face falling into upturned hands.

With a feigned pitying look, John slowly sat up and laid his hand on the younger man’s knee.

“Honestly though,” he began, sounding a little too concerned for Paul’s liking. “You are getting up there in years, Macca. Senility has probably started to set in, so, I wouldn’t trust your memories if I were you.”

Looking up, Paul could no longer keep the look of amusement from his face. Punching John on the shoulder, he said with a grin, “Piss off.”

Laughing, John placed his hands on the younger man’s chest and dealt him a hearty shove in retaliation, causing Paul to fall back with an unmanly squeal as he fell off the bed, head landing on the carpeted floor with a dull thump.

John’s body began to shake as he doubled over with laughter, the affronted glare that his mate threw him causing the older man’s mirth to increase tenfold. Unable to stop the laughter that bubbled froth from between his lips, and unwilling to even try, John nevertheless reached out to pull the other man up.

However, his advances were quickly slapped away as Paul pushed himself up on his own, a scowl on his face.

Standing stiffly, Paul turned his head away and crossed his arms over his chest, a pretty pout etched on his face as he resolutely ignored the other man. Throwing John a glare, he began to walk in the direction of the bathroom; his retreat quickly thwarted by the other man’s actions.

With a grin, John had quickly reached over and grabbed Paul’s arm, roughly pulling him towards the bed and causing the younger man to tumble onto the mattress. Wrapping the younger man in a tight embrace, John brought Paul firmly into his chest, resting the younger man’s cheek against his bare skin as he held him tightly.

Paul struggled in vain, for with every motion he made to break free, John simply tightened his grip. Finally with a huff, the younger man simply gave up.

After a moment or two of terse silence, Paul finally muttered with difficulty, “Hold me any tighter and you’ll have a dead body on your hands, love,” his body wiggling uncomfortably in the older man’s unyielding hold.

Dropping a quick kiss on the top of the younger man’s head, John immediately loosened his grip with a murmured sorry and whispering softly, “Can’t have you getting away from me now, can I?”

Grinning despite himself, Paul shot back, “So, I’m your prisoner now, am I?”

“Are you complaining?”

Chuckling, Paul made himself more comfortable as he resigned himself to his fate before replying, “No, I don’t suppose that I am.”

With a sleepy smile, John tightened his hold around the younger man in response, eyes starting to fall shut as a heady wave of exhaustion washed over him. With one last peck on across Paul’s brow, John was asleep within a few seconds; his soft snores heard throughout the room as slumber claimed his tired body.

Wide hazel eyes peeked through long dark eyelashes as Paul smiled at John’s relaxed expression before grabbing the blanket that dangled on the edge of the bed. Pulling it over their bodies, he sighed contentedly as he snuggled closer and relished the older man’s warmth.

However, try as he might, sleep eluded Paul and he lay wide awake and terribly bored while his partner dozed beneath him.

Frowning to himself, Paul propped himself up on one elbow, disentangling himself from John’s clinch as he looked down at the sleeping man, smiling as John let out an unconscious moan of protest, feeling the loss of Paul’s closeness even in sleep.

With an amused shake of his head and eyes burning with barely disguised mischief, Paul bent his head, lips ghosting along John’s skin as he placed light kisses along the older man’s bare chest, causing the previously resting body to stir.

His eyes barely open, John tangled his hands in Paul’s hair, fingers lightly tugging at the tousled brown locks and pulling Paul’s head up, grinning sleepily at the younger man’s pout before leaning forward and kissing him on the forehead.

“You keep doing that, love,” John said softly, a hint of a promise in his voice. “And there is no way I’m letting you out of this bed any time soon.”

Eyes bright with lust, Paul replied with a wink, “Maybe I had no intention of leaving.”

Groaning, John tilted his head forwards and captured Paul’s mouth in a hard kiss, hand wrapping around the back of the younger man’s head as he growled, “Little minx,” against Paul’s lips.

With a laugh, Paul moved away, lying abreast John as he leaned back against the pillows, head tilted to the side as he looked down at the other man silently.

Feeling Paul’s gaze on him, John turned and fixed the younger man with one of his own, prompting Paul to quickly turn away, face flushing in embarrassment. The older man simply looked on in amusement, shaking his head at Paul’s odd behaviour.

After a few moments of silence, Paul noisily cleared his throat. Turning towards the other man, he finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m glad you were able to come,” he said softly, his fingers reaching towards John’s hand and tangling them together.

Looking towards their entwined hands briefly, John looked up and replied with a tilt of his head, “Well, you did come across the world to see me. The least I could do was spring for a cab ride and meet you half way.”

Chuckling, Paul squeezed John’s fingers one last time, before releasing them.

“A cab ride for a few blocks is hardly halfway, love,” he said, with a grin. “But be that as it may, I’m still glad that you’re here.”

Grabbing hold of Paul’s hand again, John brought it to his lips and kissed the tips of each of Paul’s fingers before answering, “The feeling’s mutual, love.”

And with that small, sweet gesture, Paul could feel himself getting lost in John Lennon all over again.

With a slightly frightened smile, he pulled his hand out of the older man’s grasp, the quick flicker of apprehension in his eyes not going unnoticed by John.

Sighing, the older man sat up and leaning towards Paul, John cupped the younger man’s face in his calloused palms and said simply, “I missed you, you know.”

“I missed you, too,” Paul replied, as he stared into his lap, unwilling to meet the other man’s eyes.

“Hey, come on,” John cajoled, as he tilted his head sideways to look into Paul’s downturned face. “Now who’s having fucking mood swings? I thought we were having a good time.”

Smiling slightly, Paul looked up, “Afraid I’m becoming you?”

“Dear god, yes!” John exclaimed. “It’s bad enough dealing with meself, I don’t think I could handle two of me!”

Paul looked taken aback for a brief moment, before bursting into laughter. With a shake of his head, he leaned in close and rested his forehead against John’s as he said, “You’re fucking impossible.”

The older man simply shrugged in response, before wrapping his arms around Paul’s waist, and bringing the younger man closer and resting his chin on one bare shoulder.

A moment of silence descended upon the two men, each lost in their own heads. However, as Paul continued to chuckle to himself, the dread of their approaching separation settled over John, and the previous feeling of merriment vanished in an instant.

“It keeps getting harder, you know,” he finally said, voice soft. “Seeing each other every couple of months is hardly enough.” Tightening his hold, John dropped a kiss on Paul’s shoulder before whispering in the younger man’s ear, “I’m already thinking of how hard it’s going to be to say goodbye tomorrow, not knowing when I’ll be able to see you again.”

“Then don’t think about it,” Paul whispered back, his hand clasping John’s as it rested on his stomach. “Just enjoy the moments that we have left.”

With a sigh, John moved away and sat on the edge of the bed, head turned away so Paul would not be able to see the sadness in dark his eyes.

Paul’s shoulders slumped as soon as the older man turned his back on him, wide eyes looking lost as he stared at John’s lowered head. With a tired shrug, Paul rose from the bed and stretched, the muscles in his back sore from lying abed nearly all day. With one parting look at his mate’s dejected form, Paul muttered about heading to the loo, before turning and silently walking away.

Unbeknownst to him, John’s eyes followed his naked body as it moved away, enjoying the view the younger man provided despite himself.

Shaking his head, John rose from the bed as well, pulling on a pair of pants that were crumpled up and lying at the foot of the bed before walking over to sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. He peered through the clear glass into the early dawn briefly before opening the door and stepping out into the fresh air, a low gasp ripped from his lips as his bare feet encountered the unexpected coldness of the wooden slats.

John slowly made his way towards the railing, one hand clutching the cold metal as he absently starred out into the fading darkness while his other hand fished around in his pocket for the ever-present pack of cigarettes. In a matter of seconds his fingers brushed against cardboard as he pulled out the carton and placed a cigarette between his lips.

As he searched the other pocket in vain for a lighter, John was ultimately disappointed as his hunt proved fruitless. Instead, what he encountered caused a brief look of panic to flash in his eyes.

What he found instead were a pair of rings, wedding bands to be exact.

Sighing, John let the cigarette fall from his lips as palmed the rings and brought them forth for closer inspection. Eyes softening noticeably, he tilted his head to the side as he stared at the two bands sitting on his palm, taking in the sight of the burnished gold shining in the early morning light as he felt the cool metal soothing his heated skin.

“What are you doing out here?”

At the sound of Paul’s voice, John jumped nearly a foot in the air and quickly hid the rings in his pocket before looking back with a forced smile.

“Needed some fresh air, love,” he stammered nervously before looking away again, and with a white knuckled grip on the balcony railing, he turned his gaze on the skies above.

With a shrug, Paul walked over and twined his arms around John’s waist and placed his chin on the other man’s shoulder.

“So, what are we looking at?” he asked, as he attempted to follow John’s gaze. When no answer was forthcoming, Paul threw the older man a sideways glance, squeezing him around the waist as said, “Are you listening to me, John?”

As though coming out of a daze, John slowly blinked his eyes and shook his head before turning towards the other man with a short, “What?”

Eyes rolling, Paul answered with an amused grin, “Well, something up there clearly fascinates you. So, I was just wondering what it was.”

“Oh, right.”

With one delicately arched eyebrow raised, Paul asked, “Is anything the matter?”

“No!” John replied with a squeak. Clearing his throat, the older man continued, his voice somewhat back to normal. “Not at all,” he scoffed. “Why must you always jump to conclusions?”

“Sorry, my mistake,” Paul quickly apologized, as he threw the other man a puzzled glance, “You just seem a bit tense, that’s all. You’re not still upset, are you?”

Breaking out of Paul’s grasp, John whirled around and snapped, “I’m not, all right?” eyes flashing angrily.

“Well, excuse my concern,” the younger man shot back with a look of disgust. Shaking his head, he turned to go, “I’ll just get back inside and leave you to your fucking attitude.”

Feeling immediately contrite, John reached out and grasped Paul’s shoulder, stopping the younger man’s retreat.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized with a sigh. “As always, I didn’t exactly intend to be such a fucking asshole.”

Turning to the side, Paul regarded the older man’s remorseful expression, the hard lines of his mouth smoothing as he replied tiredly with a shake of his head, “Despite how bloody long I’ve known you, you still continue to be a mystery to me, Lennon.”

“Well, at least you can’t say that I’m boring and predictable,” was the reply, as John hesitantly threw the younger man a cheeky grin.

With a short laugh, Paul shot back, “Sometimes predictability has its merits, you know.”

Moving forward, Paul stood next to John at the railing; his shoulder brushing against the older man’s every now and then as they both took in the view of Central Park South that spread out all around them.

After a few minutes of silence, John turned around completely, his back leaning up against the railing as he fixed his gaze on the younger man, prompting Paul to turn his eyes on him, a quizzical expression on his face.

“When you were a kid,” John began before Paul could speak. “Did you ever imagine in your wildest dreams that this is where you’d end up?

As he looked around, an impish look stole over Paul’s face, eyes dancing will ill-disguised humour.

“You mean,” Paul began conspiratorially, as he leaned in close, his face a hair’s breadth away from John’s. “Did I ever dream of being filthy rich, a world famous singer/songwriter with two obscenely popular bands, and spending the weekend in a posh New York City hotel with my best mate, cum secret boyfriend?” With eyebrow raised, he continued in a low whisper, “I might have entertained the thought once or twice. Especially that last bit.”

With a laugh, John playfully shoved Paul away from him, retorting, “Be serious!”

Chuckling, Paul moved back towards the balcony railing, his pose mirroring his mate’s as he replied, “You know I didn’t.” Giving the other man an appraising look, he continued, “I seem to recall us having similar conversations while growing up and a decent career, marriage, and kids were all that we could really hope for back then.”

With a shrug, Paul turned away, facing the park as he continued in a more serious voice, “Sure, we wanted to be rich and famous, but we certainly didn’t expect it to this extreme. I’m sure even you,” he added with a sideways glance, “With your infinite cockiness, never expected to end up with what you did.”

John simply turned away in response.

“What brought this on?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking the other day,” the older man replied with a sigh. With a rueful chuckle he added, “Not much else to do in that bloody apartment.”

Shaking his head, John pushed himself away from the railing, Paul’s eyes following his agitated form as he began pacing aimlessly back and forth across the wooden boards.

Stopping briefly, he looked towards the younger man and said, “Anyway, I came to the realization that I’m fucking 40 years old and despite everything that I’ve accomplished, it still feels as though there’s something missing.”

“What are you going on about?” Paul exclaimed, his eyes following John’s form as the older man resumed his treading. “You’ve got everything you could bloody well hope for. You have a wife and two great kids. And your career is getting back on track. What else could you possibly want?”

Stopping, John looked into Paul’s eyes, his pained gaze never leaving Paul’s face as he replied with a simple, “You.”

Laughing, Paul moved forward, his hands reaching for John’s face as he leaned in close and placed a quick kiss on the older man’s forehead as he said, “You have me, mate.”

“Do I really?”

Leaning back, his hands moving down John’s arms, Paul replied, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“For now,” the older man muttered as he looked away. Turning a pain-filled gaze on Paul, he continued, “Tomorrow you go back to England and I’ll be stuck here. Who knows when I’ll see you again?”

Dropping his hands, Paul backed away as he ran a hand through his hair, a look of agitation on his face.

“Come on, John,” he said exasperatedly. “I know that we don’t see each other nearly as often as we’d both like, but I am doing my best.”

Stepping forward with frustration apparent on his face, John reached towards the other man as he sighed, “I know you are, love and I’m not blaming you. Not one bit.”

“I know that it isn’t the ideal situation,” Paul replied with a shake of his head as he sidestepped John’s advances. “It has never been enough, and I’d wager that it never will be.” Turning a beseeching look on the older man, he added, “But in the end, there is only so much that we can do.”

Hands falling to his sides, John replied, “But I want more.”

“You think I don’t?’ the younger man exclaimed as he threw his arms in the air. Running a hand through his hair, he shot back, “But we’ve already talked this fucking topic to death! How could we possibly have more than this? As it is, we’re already flirting disaster, meeting like this in hotel rooms, hoping to God that no one notices the two men in funny hats and fake mustaches checking in.”

A muscle ticked in John’s jaw, and with his eyes clouding over, he gritted his teeth and turned away, hands balled up into tight fists by side.

Paul sighed, shoulders falling as he lowered his voice, “Besides, there’s still a matter of our families to think about. I could never leave Linda and the kids, just like I know that you could never leave Yoko and Sean.”

Turning away, Paul rubbed his temples, a look of tiredness falling over his face. Looking out over the park, he said softly, “Just knowing about what’s been going on would kill them. What do you think would happen if we left them?”

“You think I don’t know that?” John cried out as he whirled around, wild, dark eyes meeting sad hazel ones. “You think that I don’t lie awake every night scared to fucking death that Yoko will find out, take Sean, and leave me? You’re not the only one who worries about these things, Paul.”

The two men moved forward as they spoke, legs stumbling towards each other of their own volition.

Standing in front of Paul, John looked directly into his mate’s eyes and said softly, “But I think what worries me the most is that one day you’ll wake up and realise that this is more fucking trouble than it’s worth and decide never to see me again.”

“Oh, bloody hell, John,” the younger man grumbled, with an irritated look. “I’m so fucking sick of this.”

And grabbing John’s hand, he placed it firmly on his chest.

“Now, listen here,” the younger man began with a determined look on his face, the tone of his voice not allowing for discussion or dissent. “I’m fucking standing right here in front of you, flesh and bone. And no matter where we’ve been in our lives, no matter how much we thought we fucking hated each other, this heart has never stopped beating for you.”

Lips quirking up in a slight grin, Paul leaned forward and whispered into the other man’s ear, “Even when I had myself convinced that I no longer needed you, that I no longer loved you, it never stopped.” With a slight pause, Paul turned away briefly, taking in a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve spent a lot of my time trying to hate you, John, but that is probably the one thing that I’ve always failed miserably at.”

Moving closer, Paul captured John’s lips with his own, putting every emotion that he was feeling into that kiss. It tasted of everything that Paul had ever felt towards the other man, all the love, lust, frustration, anger, irritation, and a few other ugly feelings that he dared not mention. When breathing became an issue, the two men broke apart, though their foreheads rested lightly together.

“I love you, you bastard,” Paul said with a smirk. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d remember that, for once!”

Chuckling, John wrapped his arms around Paul’s waist and rested his head on the younger man’s shoulder, as he said softly, “Marry me,” his voice barely above a whisper.

Stiffening, Paul pulled back, shocked eyes probing John’s lightly teasing ones.

“What did you say?” the younger man asked, stunned.

With a nervous grin, John pulled away from the shocked younger man and fumbled in his pocket, bringing out the pair of wedding bands as he got down on one knee.

“Will you marry me, Paul?”

As the look of bewilderment slowly faded away, Paul placed his hands on his hips as he looked down at the older man with an expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

“Haven’t we already done this before?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “And from what I can remember, it ended pretty badly.”

With an irritated look on his face, John groused, “Will you fucking answer already? My knee is killing me!”

“You’re impossible!” Paul retorted, as he shook his head in reluctant amusement.

Face brightening, the older man asked hopefully, “So, is that a yes?”

And with a tired shake of his head, Paul snatched one of the rings from John’s upturned hand.

“Hey now!” the older man exclaimed as he took the ring back. “Don’t be so fucking grabby! We have to do this right.”

Eyes softening, John looked into the younger man’s eyes as he slipped the ring on Paul’s finger.

“I give you this ring,” he began softly, “As a constant symbol of my promise to be with you as long as I live.”

And with a grin, Paul took John’s hand in his own and as he slipped the ring on the older man’s finger, said, “I give this ring as my gift to you. Wear it and think of me and know that I love you and that I am always by your side.”

Looking down at the familiar band on his finger, Paul shook his head in amazement, remarking, “Fucking hell, mate. I can’t believe you kept these rings all these years. I would’ve expected you to toss them after what happened before.”

“What can I say?” John replied with a shrug. “I never gave up hope.”

“You’re a fucking sentimentalist, mate,” Paul teased, as he pinched the older man’s cheek hard. “Isn’t that precious?”

John simply glared in response, as the younger man to erupt into a fit of giggles, causing the older man to smile in spite of himself.

Rolling his eyes at Paul’s apparent amusement, John moved in closer and placed his hand at the nape of the other man’s neck.

“Time to kiss the bride, Macca,” he said. However, as he moved in for the kiss, he was quickly stopped by a hand on his chest. Looking up, he found the younger man leveling him with a glare.

“Why is it that I always have to be the woman?” Paul griped, forehead furrowed in irritation.

With a dramatic sigh, John rolled his eyes again as he “Come on, Paul. We’ve covered this already. You’re clearly the prettier one, therefore making you the perfect choice to play the part of the woman in the relationship.”

Paul stared back at John silently, head tilted to the side as he seemed to ponder the older man’s statement.

After a few seconds, Paul simply shrugged in agreement as he replied, “Fine.” He then gripped John behind the neck and pulled him closer, adding with a cheeky grin, “But only because you said I’m pretty.”

And with a laugh, John leaned forward and captured Paul’s lips in a sweet kiss, his arms tightening around the younger man’s body as his eyes closed, silently praying to a god he no longer believed in for the strength to say goodbye.


	25. “I Do” – Epilogue, Parts I, III, & III | A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day. __

**Part I**

“Paulie? Fucking hell, mate. I’ve been calling you all bloody day! Do you even answer your fucking phone anymore?”

The voice was heady with exasperation, John’s frustration and disappointment ringing through the speakers loud and clear.

“The album is nearly done!” he went on to share, as a feeling of elation infused his voice. “I’m heading out to the studio tonight to put the finishing touches on a few tracks, but for all intents and purposes, it’s finally fucking done.”

John paused, his breathing still heard through the tiny speakers. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke again, John’s words losing some of its previous exuberance in exchange for something a bit more subdued, a bit more affectionate.

“I miss you, love,” he added softly, as though trying to keep others from listening in on his one-sided conversation. “And believe it or not, I’ve actually been crossing off the bloody days on a fucking calendar in anticipation of your visit. Sometimes even I can’t believe what a wanker I’ve become,” John continued with a chuckle. “And I have no one to blame but myself. Although I suppose some of it could be placed on you as well.”

A distant voice called out his name, interrupting the flow of John’s words.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “I best get going,” he continued regretfully. “I’ll try to call you again when I get back.”

And with a hurried “Bye!” tacked on at the end, the message ended with the click of the receiver falling back in its cradle, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

Sitting on the floor, with the answering machine balanced precariously on his knees, Paul stopped the tape and rewound it again for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Taking a shaky breath, he closed his eyes against the images of John’s happy face, picturing perfectly the older man’s excitement and happiness and nearly feeling it himself, having bared witness to John’s dizzying moods on more than one occasion.

However, when Paul opened his eyes again and found himself utterly alone in his study, the harsh reality crashed down upon him. The room that had once been his sanctuary, now felt like his prison. The wood paneled walls seemed to be closing in on him, slowly suffocating every bit of life out of him and leaving him bereft of all emotion, of all feeling.

It was how he had felt since he had gotten the call earlier that morning.

Never in a million years did he expect to hear those words fall from anyone’s lips, the thought of such a thing happening never even crossing his mind. And as Linda had collapsed into tears by his side, all he could bring himself to say in response was a terse “Thanks” before hanging up the phone.

He then proceeded to get ready to go into the studio, as though it was just any other day. Not a day where his entire life had just been upended in the most tragic manner possible.

And while the whole world mourned, he kept himself apart from it, choosing to bury himself in his work rather than dwell on the words.

He could not be a part of it.

When he was beset by nosy reporters, their questions didn’t fully register. He heard what they were asking, but he couldn’t comprehend what exactly they meant by them.

In response to their queries, he simply replied, “It’s a drag.”

Shaking his head now to dispel the mixed feelings that threatened to take control, Paul remained resolute against allowing the pain that slowly simmered under the surface free reign over his emotions.

For, to grieve meant to accept the horrible truth, and at that moment, Paul was far from ready to do so.

Instead, he turned back towards the answering machine, his finger hovering over the play button, ready to give the message another listen and desperately needing to hear John again, feeding into his obsessive need to hear the other man’s voice again, almost as if that alone would stave off the realisation that John was no longer a part of this world.

Focusing blank eyes on the wall in front of him, Paul placed the answering machine on the floor, but just as he was about to push play, the phone started to ring. The shrill trill sounded especially loud in the small room and Paul quickly pulled his hand back, looking almost afraid to touch the machine.

He made no move to answer the call.

Before long, the ringing stopped and the sound of Linda’s voice on the answering machine greeting picked up. Closing his eyes, Paul turned his face away; eyes closed and jaw tight, as he went back to steeling himself against the words of the next caller offering forced condolences or empty words of comfort.

What he got was something completely different, and wholly unexpected.

“Uncle Paul?”

Paul turned quickly at the sound of the voice, startled out of his painful reverie at the emotions that it evoked in him. Though the caller sounded unfamiliar, there was something in the intonation that called forth ghosts past.

Part boy and part man, the voice brought forth memories of running through graveyards, nicking ciggies, and bunking off school to write songs in his bedroom.

He shook his head quickly to dispel the images that rose unbidden to his mind, setting his mouth in a thin line, Paul sat expectantly, waiting to hear who the caller was and what he had to say.

“It’s me,” the boy/man continued hesitantly. “Julian.”

Gripping his thighs tightly, Paul suddenly leaned forward with rapt attention, eyes and ears focused on the little object sitting in front of him.

“I…” Julian trailed off; voice a touch unsure and afraid. “I just called to talk and see how you’re doing…”

The young man trailed off again, the sound of heavy breathing filling Paul’s ears.

“Mum’s been in a daze all day,” Julian finally continued with a touch of desperation colouring his words. “She won’t talk to anyone. Just sits in her room and cries and I don’t know what to do.”

As the breathing grew increasingly laboured, Paul moved closer, his breaths mirroring that of the young man on the phone. Eyes wide with worry and sadness, he moved closer, his hand hovering over the receiver.

But try as he might, Paul could not bring himself to answer the call, despite the pain he heard in the young man’s voice.

“I fucking hate him, you know?” Julian suddenly bit out, all traces of sadness erased by a dose of out-and-out resentment. “For what he did to mum and for what he did to me. He never gave a damn about either of us!”

As his anger grew, so did the venom behind Julian’s words.

“But for some fucking reason,” he spat. “I still loved him. Like the fucking trusting little kid that I was, I bought his bullshit.”

With every word that fell from his lips, the rage that infused Julian’s voice slowly faded, until he sounded hollow and lifeless. And despite his efforts to remain unaffected, Paul’s heart ached for him.

“Because sometimes,” Julian whispered, “Even when you knew he’d only hurt you and leave you again, he would act like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him. And you couldn’t help but have faith in him.”

The young man finally broke down crying, his words tumbling out from between his lips with gut wrenching sobs.

“I miss him so much, Paul,” Julian cried, voice shaking uncontrollably. “So fucking much that it hurts.”

A young man on the verge of adulthood, he cried unabashedly, like the little boy that he no longer was. Julian couldn’t afford to let himself go to pieces over his father’s death, not when his mother was on the verge of a breakdown, grieving for the only man she had ever truly loved.

With one last shuddering sigh, Julian’s tears slowly abated, his next words taking Paul completely by surprise.

“I hope you’re doing all right,” the young man hiccupped. “I know how much you loved him, too.” And with a harsh laugh he added, “Maybe more than most people realize.”

Suddenly the distant sound of wailing could be heard on the other end, causing Paul to fall back with a mixture of fear and shock, his eyes widening at the noise.

The young man paused briefly on the other end, before muttering, “Fucking hell, I hear mum crying again.” With a sigh of regret, Julian quickly added, “I’ll… I’ll call again later.”

And then with a low click, the phone call ended, the sound followed by a beep on the answering machine to signal that the message was saved.

Paul sat on his knees, a mixture of emotions playing across his face as his body began to shake. Julian’s words and cries had finally broken through the wall that Paul had erected around himself, and try as he might, he could not repair them as they crumbled.

John was gone.

He looked down at the answering machine in his hands, and with a heartrending cry, he threw it against the wall, the contraption shattering into pieces of plastic and bits of metal that fell uselessly to the floor.

And with a harsh sob, Paul curled into a ball on the ground and finally let the grief consume him.

**Part II**

“Is this seat taken?”

Looking up, Paul started with surprise as he came face to face with the last person he expected to approach him.

With a tentative smile George stood by his table, his dark eyes slightly troubled as he took in the haunted look on his old mate’s face. His heart went out to Paul, the desire to fold the man in his arms rising unexpectedly. With a shake of his head, George pasted the smile on his face more firmly as he awaited the other man’s response.

Paul simply stared back uncomprehendingly, head tilted to the side as he internally debated how to respond. Still not quite sure of how to proceed, Paul finally shook his head in the negative, slightly curious as to what the younger man could possibly want with him, yet at the same time dreading the answer to his own question.

Smiling in relief, George sat down in the unoccupied chair, throwing the silent man another probing look before turning in his seat and surveying the crowd around them.

“Nice turnout, innit?” he commented casually as he took in the sight of the gaily dressed guests, mingling in small groups with glasses of wine in hand.

Nodding his head slowly, Paul answered in hushed tones, “Yeah, it certainly is.”

When Paul didn’t elaborate, an uncomfortable silence descended upon the pair, the older of the two men content with staring blankly out at the dance floor. With an uncomfortable grimace, George threw Paul a sidelong glance before sighing to himself as he shook his head.

Straightening up, George resolved to soldier on, squaring his shoulders as he turned completely sideways and rested his hands on the table close to Paul’s.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ritchie so happy before,” he said with false cheer, as he angled his chin towards the happy couple dancing amidst their friends and family.

Eyes briefly flickering upwards, a small smile graced Paul’s lips as he answered softly, “You’re right.” A light chuckle escaped his lips as he added, “Can’t say I blame him, Barb is quite the looker.”

“Shades of Brigitte Bardot, wouldn’t you say?” George observed, emboldened by Paul’s less sullen response.

Tilting his head to the side, Paul regarded the blushing bride with a critical eye, gaze raking over her slim form before replying, “I’d have to agree.”

Exchanging a quick glance, the two men chuckled briefly. However, as soon as it had shown itself, Paul’s good mood suddenly disappeared, leaving him sullen and moody once more.

With a sigh, George stared at the other man again, narrowed eyes taking in Paul’s despondent posture. It took all he had not to groan aloud at the sight of the usually talkative and entertaining man looking downwards and fiddling with the ornate silverware that graced the table.

Pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation, George leaned forward and placed his hand over his mate’s as he asked, “Are you all right?’

“Of course, I am,” Paul answered as he looked up, pasting a forced smile on his face. “What makes you think that I’m not?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, George shot back, “Well, for starters, you’ve barely said a word to anyone which is already completely out of character for you!” Gesturing towards the front of the hall, he added, “Normally you’d have been up there; critiquing the band and trying to get them play more to your liking or simply presiding over the fucking ceremony yourself.”

“I am not that bad,” Paul grumbled, as he scowled half-heartedly at the other man.

George simply threw him a pointed look, not dignifying the older man’s words with a response.

“Well, I wouldn’t have been conducting the ceremony anyway,” Paul amended begrudgingly.

Unable to help himself, George laughed.

“Kind of odd though, isn’t it?” Paul remarked, as he took in their surroundings. “A Beatle having an actual wedding reception, though it started out much like ours did!” Throwing the younger man a quick grin, he added, “Haven’t all of our weddings thus far been held at registry offices across England?”

“Hmm…” George began thoughtfully, as he fixed Paul with a knowing gaze. “For the most part, yes.”

A confused expression came over Paul’s face, prompting him to ask somewhat doubtfully, “Well, what wedding wasn’t?”

Leaning forward, his hands on his thighs, George moved in closer as he replied, “I seem to recall a lovely ceremony under a tent in India not too long ago…” his voice trailing off meaningfully.

Paul’s mouth snapped shut and his face paled at the words.

As a guarded look came into his eyes, he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, George.”

“Oh, come on, Paul,” the younger man exclaimed with a roll of his eyes. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Eyes darting from side to side, Paul shot back, “Can we not talk about this now, George?” his voice heavy with slowly simmering anger.

“Then when, Macca?” the younger man snapped, as his voice rose. “When would be a better time for you?” Reaching over and grabbing Paul’s arm tightly, George moved in closer, his face an inch from the older man’s pained visage as he continued harshly, “Because from what Linda was telling me, you’ve yet to talk to anyone about him. Fuck, you can’t even stand to hear the sound of his name!”

Paling, Paul looked around uneasily, noticing the curious stares that were thrown their way by random guests. He immediately flushed in embarrassment before turning back to George and prying the younger man’s grip from his arm.

“I’m not doing this here, George,” Paul hissed angrily, hazel eyes flashing dangerously.

Sneering, George shot back, “Then where, Paul? Name the place and we’ll fucking have it out there.”

Instead of answering the challenge, Paul simply stood and stalked out of the ballroom, unmindful of the inquisitive eyes that followed his exit.

With a muttered curse, George quickly followed suit.

Prowling through the maze of abandoned hallways in the lushly decorated Army and Navy Club, unbecomingly nicknamed “The Rag,” George searched for Paul, cursing his impetuousness and inability to rein in his emotions when dealing with his mate and this particularly sensitive subject.

After a few minutes of fruitless hunting, George finally spotted the older man stationed near a back exit, trying to light a cigarette with a shaking hand. The younger man could make out a string of muttered curses, Paul’s frustration apparent on his face when try as he might, the match would not light. After one last attempt, he threw the matchbook down with a frustrated growl and slid down the wall, his head gripped on either side with trembling hands.

As George walked closer, the feeling of concern that had been brewing in his gut since he first lay eyes on the other man that night blossomed into something larger than even he could handle.

For in all the years that George had known Paul, he had never seen the older man so utterly destroyed.

Sighing, he knelt down beside Paul and flicked open a lighter, watching the flame dance before his eyes as it instantly came to life. The older man looked up with red eyes, and studiously avoiding George’s concerned gaze, he lit his cigarette, pulling the nicotine laced smoke into his lungs and relishing the calming effect that it instantly had on him.

“Ta,” he murmured softly, flicking his gaze towards George briefly before looking away again.

“You’re welcome,” George answered as he lit a cigarette for himself before sitting down beside Paul with his back against the wall.

The two men sat in tense silence for a few minutes, each puffing away at their cigarettes. As George debated his next move internally, Paul simply ignored the other man’s presence, preferring to lose himself in thoughts of unfinished songs and things of little importance rather than dwell on the topic that George had brought up earlier.

Flicking the cigarette butt away, George finally turned towards Paul, his shrewd gaze noticing the other man’s distress in an instant, despite Paul’s belief that he had wiped away any and every sign of it.

Clearing his throat, George attempted to get the other man’s attention, but it was no avail for Paul resolutely ignored every overture.

Finally, George simply decided to speak, whether Paul heard him or not.

“You know,” he began conversationally. “When we were kids, John always loved coming over. He would tell me that he wished that his home was like mine because he absolutely adored me mum.”

Looking wistfully into the distance, George paused briefly and threw the other man a sideways glance, noticing the pained look on Paul’s face. Taking a deep breath, he soldiered on.

“He said that he loved how she was someone who accepted you for you are and who encouraged you to be the best at whatever you were interested in,” George said, voice growing soft. “He didn’t get that from Mimi, and his own mum certainly wasn’t around to be of much use.”

Laughing softly, he added, “When she died, John was the first person to come by the house, and in true Lennon fashion, he brought a bag of weed and his guitar to help ease the pain.”

As George grew silent, the sound of Paul’s laboured breathing filled the hallway, the older man’s body trembling slightly.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, voice a mixture of anger and despair.

Turning towards Paul, George tilted his head to the side and replied, “Because that’s what you do when someone you love passes away.” Reaching over, George placed his hand on the other man’s knee and continued, “You remember the good times, you remember the bad times, you grieve, and you try to move on.” Looking earnestly into Paul’s face he added, “No one should have to go through something like this alone, Paul.”

“I’ve grieved,” came the short reply.

“Have you really?” George asked, disbelief infusing every word.

“I cried the night I found out,” Paul replied tightly, his voice devoid of emotion. “After I listened to the message that Julian had left on my machine.”

George raised his eyebrows at that bit of news, but decided not to comment on it.

“So, don’t tell me that I haven’t grieved,” the older man continued, suddenly furious, as leaned forward threateningly.

Unaffected by the other man’s anger, George shot back, “Crying once hardly qualifies as mourning, Paul.”

“Well, I’m sorry, if that’s not enough for you, George,” Paul cried in desperation, hands closing into tight fists by his side.

And without so much as a backwards glance, he stood and started to walk away, Paul’s furious gait pounding against the burnished wood floors.

George stood quickly as well, calling out to the other man in a last ditch effort to get through to him.

“Don’t think I wasn’t watching you during the ceremony earlier,” George exclaimed, anxiously. “You were standing right behind Ringo with that bloody ring that you wear around your neck clutched tightly in your hand, mouthing the words along with him and Barbara as they exchanged their vows.”

Stopping in his tracks, Paul’s back stiffened. Without turning around, he retorted, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Like hell you don’t!” George shouted back, as he moved forwards ready to throttle the other man out of pure frustration. “I know what that ring was, Paul,” he continued knowingly. “I know where you got it, and what it’s significance is. I was there, remember?”

Shoulders slumping, Paul’s entire body started to shake as tears began pooling in his eyes. However, he simply wiped all traces of his distress away with a trembling hand, still not willing to give into the anguish that threatened to burst forth with each passing second.

And when a hand gently squeezed his shoulder, Paul nearly jumped a foot in the air, his heart beginning to pound loudly as he whirled around, only to come face to face with his old mate, hazel eyes widening at the fierce determination he saw expressed so clearly on George’s face.

Without a word, George placed one hand on Paul’s cheek, cupping his face firmly so that the other man would not turn away as he spoke.

“I know how much you loved him,” George began softly. “We all did, and still do. But you have to let go. You can’t keep this bottled up inside you like this.”

Paul finally met the other man’s gaze directly, and the pain that swirled within their depths nearly brought George to tears as well.

“I can’t,” Paul whispered harshly as he shook his head, eyes closing tightly.

“You’ve got to!”

“I can’t!” the older man cried, as he opened his eyes and grabbed hold of George’s shirt. “Because it’s the only thing that’s keeping me from breaking.”

And with a sob, Paul fell into George’s arms and started crying in earnest, the younger man tightening his hold, his tears mixing with the ones that his mate shed.

**Part III**

“Why don’t you ring her up and find out if she really made that remark?”

Shaking his head furiously, Paul closed his eyes as he spat angrily into the phone, “I’m not ringing her up on that.” With a shuddering sigh, Paul leaned back in the armchair, shaking hand passing over his lined face. Bloodshot eyes closing tightly, he added softly, “It’s too trivial. It’s not the time. I wouldn’t ring her up on that.”

“Well,” the other man’s voice replied evenly over the line. “I really think that you should call her up. It doesn’t hurt to ask, you know.” Pausing, the older man exhaled softly before continuing on. “Besides,” he went on to add, “The quote could have been taken out of context, something I know that you’re no stranger to.”

With a determined shake of his head, Paul sat forward, his eyes snapping open as he glared at a blank spot on the wall in front of him.

“I know, Hunter,” he ground out in response, lips drawn into a thin line. “I know. It just doesn’t seem important right now, you know? Not after everything that’s happened recently.”

Standing, Paul passed around the small study, his leaden steps thudding against the rugs that covered the hardwood floors.

“I can’t understand why Yoko is saying this,” the younger man ranted as he flung one arm into the air in exasperation. “The last time I spoke to her she was great. She told me she and John had just been playing one of my albums and had cried.”

Shaking his head, Paul massaged his throbbing temples with a trembling hand, adding softly, “I have no idea where this sudden animosity comes from. Lord knows, I haven’t said anything to elicit such a response.” Pausing slightly, Paul continued sheepishly, “Well, not lately anyway.”

An almost inaudible sigh sounded through the receiver, followed by the words, “I really think you should call her.”

Shaking his head profusely, Paul quickly replied, “I can’t. I just can’t!”

The older man on the other side sighed again, the low sound of exasperation followed by a moment of tense silence. When Hunter Davies spoke, the sound of his voice dripped with impatience.

“Well, I guess you’ll never know what she meant by the remark then, will you?” he snapped, irritated. “So, if you’ll excuse me,” he continued, with a note of finality. “I do have other matters to attend to.”

Eyes narrowing, Paul shoulders stiffened imperceptibly as his grip on the receiver tightened, his voice a low growl as he shot back, “Of course, Hunter,” his voice low and deceptively sweet. “I do apologize for calling you up like this, seeing as how you’re so dreadfully busy.” With a hard edge, he added, “In the future, I’ll refrain from calling you again to bother you with my little problems.”

“Oh come on, Paul!” Hunter exclaimed in exasperation. “You know that I did not mean it like that!”

Continuing to speak as though the other man hadn’t spoken, Paul added, “Good bye, mate. I’ll be seeing you.”

And with a low growl, he slammed the phone down in its cradle, the sound of his vicious actions reverberating through the entire room.

Shaking his head, Paul turned around, nearly stumbling over the armchair as he stalked towards the other side of the room. His hands were balled into tight fists by his side, the jagged fingernails biting into the soft flesh of his palm, as he desperately tried to keep himself from launching an attack on any one of the pieces of furniture that filled the small study.

He wandered like a man possessed, his shoulders hunched over as he prowled slowly around the small room, his red-rimmed eyes dead and unfocused, standing in stark contrast to the whiteness of his lined face.

There was little in his countenance to remind one of the charming, handsome public figure that he was.

Looking up, he found himself face to face with the ornate mirror that hung over the fireplace, eyes failing to even acknowledge the sight of his gaunt visage. With a shake of his head, Paul simply turned away, his mind still filled with the words that continued to haunt him, despite every action he had taken to erase the stain that they had left on his psyche.

_Paul had hurt John more than any other person._

He was obsessed with those words, the small black print taunting him. Every time that they swam into consciousness they were accompanied by the same gut wrenching feeling, nearly stopping his breath and causing him to double over in pain.

Never had simple words evoked such a physical response in him. Not since the last time he had spoken to or quarreled with John.

After reading that sentence, Paul’s first reaction had been to pick up the phone and rip into their speaker, to lambast Yoko for the words and for the utter cruelty that they exhibited.

Hadn’t they moved past that? he had wondered. After all, their last conversation had been nice. The two people finally connecting through their mutual love for their fallen lover. It had been nice to commiserate with the one people who he knew would understand, who had been as intimately connected with John as he had once been.

And for once, that knowledge wasn’t nearly as painful as it had always been.

However, after much effort, and countless bottles of Scotch, Paul had been able to refrain himself from going through with the foolhardy move, somehow finding in himself the inability to cause more pain to either of them.

Despite the fact that he felt that Yoko hardly deserved it.

As Paul looked down, the crumpled up remains of the magazine at his feet and with Hunter’s words still fresh in his mind, Paul finally thought that maybe now was the time for clarification, that maybe he really should call Yoko up and find out what went wrong, despite what he had said to the other man.

So, with a deep breath, he reached for the phone again, silently marveling over the fact that the force he had exhibited earlier had not broken the bloody thing before quickly dialing the numbers that he knew better than his own, his body beginning to tremble as it began to ring.

The trill noise went on and on, with no relief in sight. Slightly put out, Paul sighed in irritation and nearly abandoned the call, believing that it would not be answered. At the same time, he was somewhat relieved, Paul’s previous bluster having deserted him as soon as he came face to face with the terrifying task he had set out on.

Suddenly a low click was heard through the receiver, surprising Paul to the point that he very nearly dropped the phone. Quickly tightening his hold, his heart started to beat madly and he could very nearly feel it thrashing wildly within his ribcage as he gripped the receiver with near superhuman strength.

Fully expecting the sound of Yoko’s lightly accented voice, Paul prepared himself for the oncoming conversation, his mind a veritable jumble of accusations and painful words. He desperately tried to clear his mind, but the sentences were already forming, weaving their way through his mind and poised on the tip of his tongue.

However, when the voice on the end of the other line finally spoke and sounded more like that of a young child, Paul finally dropped the phone.

“Hello?”

Pulling the receiver up by the cord, Paul quickly grabbed the offending object, breathing heavily as he brought it up to his ear again. Confusion marred the older man’s face as the words he had been on the verge of unleashing suddenly left him.

Yelling at an innocent child was hardly the way to go about things.

As he warred with himself, trying to figure out what to say, the seconds slowly ticked by, filled with an uncomfortable silence.

Clearly growing impatient, the child finally bellowed, “HELLO?”

With a grimace, Paul pulled the receiver away, his ears ringing at the sudden onslaught of the loud high-pitched voice.

Swallowing thickly, he finally stammered, “Uh, hello? Sean?”

“Yes, who’s this?” chirped the young voice.

“Umm, Paul.”

“Paul, who?” was the curious response, the little voice prompting a small smile from the aggrieved older man.

Shaking his head, Paul cleared his throat as he replied with a soft sigh, “It’s your Uncle Paul, Sean.”

“Uncle Paul!!!” exclaimed the youngster, sounding surprisingly happy to learn the identity of the mystery caller. “Did you call to talk to daddy?”

And with those words, the brief smile was wiped clean from Paul’s face, his skin paling noticeably as his hand started to shake.

As though nothing was amiss, Sean continued to speak, adding, “Because he’s not here anymore.”

“I know, Sean,” Paul somehow choked out, bile rising in his throat as he fought down a sudden surge of panic. “I know.”

Noticeably subdued, Sean replied in a solemn voice, “Mommy said that’s Daddy’s in heaven now, so that he can watch over all of us.” Pausing, the young boy asked, “Do you think that’s true?”

“Yeah, Sean,” Paul somehow managed to get out, his voice ragged even to his own ears. Eyes closing tightly, he added, “I think it is.”

“I really miss him though.

Smiling slightly at the childish innocence of the young voice, Paul leaned into the wall in front of him, one arm bracing his body as he burrowed his face deep into his shoulder.

Tearing up, Paul replied in a muffled voice, “I miss him, too.”

“I wish he was still here,” Sean went on to say matter-of-factly. “Then we could’ve gone to heaven together.”

With a shake of his head, Paul pushed himself away from the mall and turned around, hand rubbing over his tired face as he said softly, ““I don’t know if he would’ve liked that very much, Sean.”

“Why not?” was the indignant reply. With a voice close to tears, Sean shot back, “Don’t you think my daddy would want me with him?”

“Of course,” Paul responded hurriedly, eyes widening in alarm. In a placating voice, one that he had used often enough to soothe the tempers of his own children, Paul added, “Of course he’d love to be with you, but not up there. Not just yet.” With a deep breath, Paul shook his head slightly as he continued softly, “That’s where grown-ups go after they’ve lived a long life.”

Paul’s words were met with silence.

Fearing that he might have upset the boy, Paul opened his mouth to try to console Sean further, but was interrupted by the young voice before he could get a single word out.

“Oh,” the young boy said softly. After a short pause, Sean added, “You’re old, just like daddy! Do you want be in heaven with daddy, too?”

Startled by the question, Paul stopped dead in his tracks, his slender frame as still as a statue in the middle of the room. Unsure about how to reply, Paul let his emotions rush through him, thinking about the dark thoughts that had consumed him right after he had heard the news about John’s death.

“Sometimes,” he finally answered, voice shaking slightly. “Sometimes, it’s all I can think about.”

Again, the conversation faded into silence.

Suddenly, in a cheery voice that only a child could muster, Sean related, “Daddy was always singing songs; my favourite was “In My Life.” Do you know that one, Uncle Paul?”

“Actually, I do,” Paul answered with a laugh, surprising himself with the sound.

Voice nearly bouncing off the walls in excitement, Sean added happily, “Daddy said that he wrote it about his best friend Paul. Was that you?”

“I…” the older man trailed off uncertainly. “I think so.”

“He always talked about you,” Sean replied. Childlike voice coming out in a tumbling frenzy of excited words, he continued, “He would always tell me about how much he loved you and missed you and that he hoped that one day I would have a best friend who loved me as much as you loved him.”

Eyes misting over, Paul sank to the carpet, his legs folding Indian-style underneath him as he let the young boy’s words wash over him.

“Did you love my daddy, Uncle Paul?

“Of course,” the older man choked out, eyes closed tight. With a deep breath he added softly, “I loved him very much.”

“Good, because he loved you, too,” the little boy said with finality, “A lot! Daddy told me that he loved you almost as much as he loved me!”

It took everything in Paul not to break down right then and there.

“Uh oh,” the little boy suddenly said, a note of panic in his voice. “My mommy is coming. She’s going to get really mad if she catches me on the phone.” After a short pause, he asked “Did you want to talk to her?”

Shaking his head in the negative, Paul answered back hurriedly, “No, Sean, that’s all right.” Words in a nervous jumble, he added quickly, “I should get going as well.

“Okay,” was the cheerful response. “Goodbye, Uncle Paul!”

But before Paul could return the farewell, the young boy was already gone.

And as the dial tone sounded through the phone, Paul slowly hung up the receiver before lying back on the carpet, his mind and body a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions as he wearily trained his eyes on the blank ceiling above.


End file.
